elbows and a**holes

a day in the life

We all lived in a big farmhouse in rural Arkansas. It was an enormous, 3-story structure, filled with people and surrounded by fruit trees and grazing cattle. Wild berries of various colors and tang twisted around and throughout the white picket fence that held the animals in their place. It was postcard pretty, I hope it still is- this was long ago.

 

 

We numbered 12 permanent residents, 6 children, with hot and cold running transients.

 

It was a great place for the short time we were there. It was my uncle’s house and he and his wife allowed my parents and another uncle to rent the place for their respective families.

 

 

And there we were in our big red farmhouse, all 6 of us kids- myself the oldest at 8, in an enormous living room, eating peanuts and dropping the shells on the floor. The youngest were screaming, the oldest scheming, all the while absent-mindedly scattering shells here and there throughout the room.

 

 

Memory is faulty and I was young. I do know it was a large room, I remember it as the size of two large living rooms. The front door opened in to this room and you would see first the couch- 10-ft. long, beige cover with a plaid design, it fit the wall perfectly. The walls were a landscape, the scene depicted a section of the I-40 our family traveled often between Tulsa, OK. and Hot Springs, AR. Vehicles of all kinds and roadside landscaping ran around the room from floor to ceiling, with entryways on either side of the couch serving as on and off ramps. This was all very colorful, although slightly muted, like milky colored glass. It was under blacklights that the walls revealed their true complexity.

 

 

This was the room we were all in. Myself, my brother, 3 yrs., sister, 7, and 3 cousins, 8, 7, and 5. When not beating each other up, we older ones would strategize on how to deal with the adults. This was a rare, cooperative moment when we were working together, sure of our purpose and plans. Although I don’t remember the specifics of the grievances and plotting so many years later, it was childish as we were children, with both the pettiness and dangers of an 8-yr. old running things. The adults were nowhere around. Even the drummer guy finally got off the couch and split when my little brother started smacking him as he slept, screaming "Uncle Moon, play with me". 3-yr. old brothers can come in handy sometimes. All the while shells were being tossed and ground into the grass-green shag. The room was sparsely furnished to show off the walls, but we managed to fill every inch of space, bouncing with the manic energy of unsupervised kids. Fibrous shells and the little tan paper God wraps the nuts in were all over the floor when my father walked in.

 

 

This was unusual, as most of the adults were gone most of the day. On days any adults were around, they’d shoo us kids off so we never really seemed to occupy the same house. Nevertheless, here he was.

 

 

"What in the hell are you doing?" he bellowed, his round face iridescent as he sputtered his indignation. The commotion brought the rest of the adults quickly into the room. Their incredulity was met with the uncomprehending slack jaws of children who know they’ve done something wrong, but not what that wrong could be. The youngest were exempt from guilt, while the older were silently spinning possible alibis through their minds, studying stories for credibility as the words passed behind their eyes.

 

 

It was my uncle who devised our punishment and thus we came to realize just what we had done. All 6 of us were lined up along a far wall and told to pick up every foreign object, no matter how small. We were not to simply clean but to purify the thick shag that spread ahead of us like a savannah.

 

 

The adults were soon lined up on the couch, with people hanging around the doors to the interior, seeming to occupy the mural like hippies on a freeway onramp. The hiss of cold beer cans and the thick sweetness of pot carried their laughter around the room, as my uncle would periodically catch one of us stopping to look back at them, "Who told you to stop? I don’t wanna see nothin’ but elbows and a******s". "Hell, this is better than TV", my dad bellows, everyone in stitches.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We’re all adults now- I’m oldest at 47- and we laugh along now. My sister has 3 kids but my brother and me remain childless, or at least non-custodial. I can relate now, knowing how hard it is to stay high and responsible at the same time.

 

 

My folks are dead now. I wish I had been nicer to them toward the end of their lives. They hurt me so much and I had to hurt back. Now I’m sick with the sadness and loss of chance, no one can ever make anything right. They can never be better people than they were; their days are gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[LSS]

"My folks are dead now. I wish I had been nicer to them toward the end of their lives. They hurt me so much and I had to hurt back. Now I'm sick with the sadness and loss of chance, no one can ever make anything right. They can never be better people than they were; their days are gone."
Its almost like you were writing my poems and stories these last few days. Though I'm at the lead edge of the drama, and My folks and I had a wonderful time over the years. Having to begin the process of 'putting them away' has shifted me into the same pit you have found yourself - helplessly condemned!
Lar

[Emily B]

oh . . . this is important . . .big thoughts and I hadn't expected that when you started with the story of childhood plotting

[Hedra Helix]

Ohhh man thats friggin awesome! So cleanly written, the images clear too and the little things like the peanut skins wrapped by god thundering cos youve built them such a home, ohh man i love your style.

sweetly bittersweet and funny.
oo write more stories, they're super enjoyable!

thanks for sharing this.
I have an uncle moon too. Mon actually but promounced moon.
some of my earliest memories are also of my fathers pot ;)

[Zatoichi]

I miss your poetry and hope you and yours are well and happy. Hau‘oli Lā Ho‘omaika‘i !

[Inda Lauryn]

"I can relate now, knowing how hard it is to stay high and responsible at the same time."

Absolutely incredible line. It says so much about the entire story. This is not only a very powerful description of a day in the life but a very detailed portrait of an extended family. The one day says so much about their entire lives and you express it beautifully. I would encourage you to fix the few grammatical errors though. Otherwise, this is a great read.