Chapter 12 (Don't Sweat the Small Stuff)

Chapter 12

                     

“Don’t sweat the small stuff...and it’s all small stuff”

                                             - Richard Carlson, PH.D

        

     By the time our lawn was planted, house was painted, and cement was sanded we were ready to move our belongings into our new home. Moving day came and of course we all pitched in to help.  Moving is such a weird feeling.  Here you are, trying to make your old possessions “fit” into a brand new house. It just doesn’t work.  We had a huge moving van, that was about a third filled with all our possessions piled toward the front and tied with ropes so as not to move during the five mile trek from Chestnut Garden, Bridgeport to Toll House Lane, Fairfield.  It didn’t take long to move the boxes and the stick furniture into our new abode.  As you would expect, there were some mix-ups; boxes marked “fragile, glasses” went to the bedroom instead of the kitchen.  Boxes with sheets and towels, of course, went to the kitchen.

     My cousins were there helping us move. This was such an unusual time for me. Though my favorite relatives would now be living only a mile away from us, in the town of Trumbull, I was also moving away from the life I knew; the life that was comfortable and secure. The people and friends I cared about, though I can’t remember a single one today, and really after I met the first couple Stevenson Road and Toll House Lane friends, quite frankly, dismissed them from my mind altogether. Never the less, it was a new and exciting passage in time and I was beginning to get excited about the promises. Little did I know, that within a few short years, my life would change course drastically and remain afloat for the next ten years.  Along the way I would ascertain and explore and yes, even escape through one event after another... passing and groping through one portico, then another on my way to perception…on my way to discovery...on my way to adulthood.

     But those are other stories for other times and future chapters.

     Meanwhile, there we were, moving boxes from room to room, emptying them, and carrying in all the furniture.  Deciding where everything needed to be placed even though I had absolutely no input in the decision-making.  It was fun though, watching all the grown-ups fumbling around and changing their minds every three minutes.  I didn’t have much, so it was easy to take care of me, but Mom and Dad, well Mom and Dad were a different story.

     “I think that table should be in the far corner, Bernie,” Mom would direct.

     “I don’t know, Hon” (Dad always called mom Hon, as if that was her name). “I think the orange chair goes better there.” pointing to the large picture window.

     “ No, I want the orange chair under the window.” mom would counter.

      Dad always knew which battles were worth the effort and which weren’t. 

     “You’re probably right”, he conceded.

     Five minutes later, the orange chair was in the near corner and the round table was under the window.  And on it went, until everything was in its place.... for the time being at least.  I learned a lot about negotiations from my father and my Uncle Harry.  Life was just too short to fret the small stuff, and it was, as I would learn later in life, all small stuff.1

     At long last, it was time for us to have some lunch. My aunt Cele and uncle Harry were here along with my two female cousins, Adrienne and Judy.  Judy was unique because she was an identical twin to Stevie, a male.  Stevie hated being called Stevie, especially later in life. He always wanted to be called Steve...it was after all, more masculine.  I never got this identical twin stuff, though.  They didn’t look or dress the same, at all...and if someone didn’t tell you.... you would never have known.  But, we all played along to make them feel important, and different. Adrienne was younger than “The Twins” and was my closest relative in age and awareness.  She was and has always been the one constant in my life and has seen me through my various bumps and bruises.  She even fixed me up with most if not all my “dates” between the ages of thirteen and sixteen (More on that later).  We were pretty much inseparable and she remains my “best” friend, to this day, though everyone who meets her feels the same way....

     Lunch was nothing special.  We had sandwiches, potato chips and of course orange and grape sodas in bottles.  The adults sat at the table in the kitchen and the children sat at the breakfast bar (we never had a breakfast bar before), eating our well-deserved feast.  Suddenly, and without warning, Judy reached for the bottle of orange soda not noticing the opened grape soda next to her right elbow. In her haste, she knocked both bottles over, with the grape cascading over the edge of the breakfast bar down the side, onto the brand new wallpaper covering the entire height of the breakfast bar. 

     “Oh my God!!!! I’m so sorry, Aunt Bert!” Judy bellowed.

     My Mom’s name was actually Roberta but Many people called her Bert.  She never liked this though; because she said it make her sound like a dog.  You know, “here Bert, come on Bert.” My cousin’s had a dog named Birchy.  I think that’s why Mom felt the way she did...They had no idea of course...No one did.

     “I’m so sorry, Aunt Bert!”

     “Uh oh,” I surmised to myself.  I thought my mother would have a conniption but instead she calmly and coolly spoke,

     “That’s ok, Judy.”  “It will wipe off.”

     “Bernie, get a damp sponge.”  Mom instructed. 

     Dad, as was usually the case, heeded his command like the puppy he had become, and handed Mom the wet and dripping sponge...I think he did that on purpose just to piss Mom off...but maybe not.

      And, you know what?  It did come right off.  Almost like magic, it disappeared with nary a remnant of the grape stain that I, even at the tender age of seven, thought would leave a huge birthmark - like remnant for the rest of our days at Toll House Lane.  I’m not really sure if Mom knew this wallpaper had a special magical component to make stains vanish or if she was shocked into a passive stupor; hence the lack of emotion over this near tragedy.  Never the less, another catastrophe was avoided, no one got hurt and we would all live to see another day.

                                            

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Raven Starhawk]

I am so behind. I am sorry for not reviewing this earlier. You have such a bright muse. I love how you weave your details.

[_]

Moving day....yeah I never feel the same afterwards. Your writing is so neat though. :)

[zero binty]

The two things I like about this piece is the surrounding of family in new surrounding, and the way the memory plays out. In the human mind we recollect things how we remember them. Not entirely true, but true to the storyteller. Thank you for this piece mah fren.

[Rosalind Gale]

Thank you for this insight; how I adore the little things in life, those seemingly ordinary moments that stay a lifetime with one. I think I shall seek out a grape soda right now! Thank you Allen -x-

[Mockingbird]

i like the dynamic between the mother and the father; how the chair ended up where the dad wanted it in the first place, after he had ceded to his wife about where it would go. it's also good advice for a man to choose his battles with his wife. someone once said, 'do you want to be right, or do you want to be happy.' this demonstrates that saying, i think. this is a great chapter of a new beginning.

[Coyote Poetry]

A very good story. Real life is filled with story and good memories. I like the Northwest USA. The waitresses call you honey and hon. Thank you for the entertaining story. A excellent story.
Coyote

[Brad]

superbly written, allen, it's always enjoyable to peek into another's life, read through the author's eyes so to speak.

[Becky C Strukamp]

Allen, you make every day life so enjoyable to read. Moving, that's a task, brought back my own memories of moving as a child from town to town and state to state. Guess in all as youngen I moved over 13 times before I left home at 16 years of age and have lived in over 15 different homes since that time. Moving, it really is an adventure.

I could feel your inner turmoil as you left familiar behind you to take on new! And the grape being spilled and the sighs of "oh boy this is gonna be a catastrophic event" was such a warm tale of how your mom handled it with calm.

You also know how to hold your readers attention and want more, as in Judy arranging a lot of your dates, anxious to read more on that as well as those next ten years plus. Great story telling and as always I am not only learning about your life but you aid me in how I am approaching the story telling of my own life.

Send more Allen, great work!

[Leslie Philibert]

Enjoyed looking at this, lots of great details, had nearly a Charles Dickens feeling,loved the details about food and drink (people are always eating and drinking in Dickens too), nice look at domestic life, and what I really liked was the paragraph Little did I know, - suddenly a window opened to the future that made the narrative over the present very poignant, the writer has a very intimate voice here.
I really like autobiographical writing, and this is very well done.

[?]

Ahhhh yes...moving and leaving old friends behind, making new...always scary but yet more so exciting...I think we all have one of those unique cousins..that become our best friend...
Thats kinda the way it is here...except the opposite...he says, looks better over there, I say, I like here, he says, no be better over here. I say OK..next thing I know its the way I wanted it...lol
What another great chapter...I remember many moving days in my life...some good and some not so good...I thought for sure the grape soda would have left a stain...thank goodness it didnt and you all lived to see another day...Awesome chapter