“Come look at this photo,” Maria was staring at picture in the Sunday newspaper that was of a milk jug perched on a stool with a red bow tie. The milk jug stool was in the midst of 3 other stools containing men dressed in suits in a debate setting.
“How strange,” replied Cameron, “What it’s about?”
“According to this story,” Maria said, “This milk jug represents a missing candidate for state senate who couldn’t come to the debate. He is from the dairy family that makes the milk. I think that is rather clever, don’t you?”
“I think I would vote for the person who thought that up—I like their whimsy.” Cameron went back to his crossword puzzle.
Each summer for the past 2 years, Cameron and Maria rented a somewhat dated townhouse that had a spectacular view of the Blue Ridge Mountains and glimpses of a lake. They didn’t mind putting up with the somewhat tired kitchen and faint mildew smell of the basement in order to see that view each morning.
At the beginning of their vacation, there was some tension but after the third or fourth day, Cameron and Maria became more at ease with each other and lovemaking was uninhibited and easily attained.
“What shall we do today?” Maria asked over the papers.
“Do you realize how many people would give anything to ask that question?” Cameron replied.
“I know—we are very fortunate people to have a day with no agenda.” Maria looked at Cameron with affection and gratitude.
“Let’s go back to bed and read the papers,” Cameron suggested.
“Oh, I can think of other things I’d rather be doing in bed,” Maria looked slyly at her husband.
“What, and leave the kitchen in disarray?!” Cameron gasped mockingly.
“I’m on vacation!” Maria slipped a shoulder out of her robe teasingly at Cameron. In all the ten years they had been married, Cameron could not remember a time coming downstairs to see the kitchen a mess. Maria could be a bit compulsive about cleaning at night.
“OK, let’s go back to bed and NOT read the papers” Cameron grabbed Maria who was giggling all the way back to their room.
As they fell into bed, Cameron said, “After we do the deed, let’s call for room service and have a long languid brunch sent up”
“You do realize, of course, that we ARE the room service,” Maria laughed as she took off her robe and slid into the covers.
“Right! But if you don’t mind being the room service, think of the tip I could leave you!” Cameron nuzzled her neck and Maria knew their marriage was going to be more solid than she had ever dreamed.
Currently, we straddle two different cultures. We live in Metro Detroit during most of the year and lead fairly hectic lives. But during the summer, we are fortunate enough to spend weeks in East Tennessee where you definitely learn to slow down your life’s tempo.
One morning we visited a small 2-chair barbershop with only one barber on a little road outside of Knoxville. Jim had to get a haircut, and the price was right at $7.50. As he walked in, a mother and son were in there and the first thing she said to Jim was, “Are you here to get prettied up?”
The shop looked like it was in a converted converted double wide trailer. The well-worn chairs had deeply indented cushions from years of sitting, and you could hear country music playing in the background. Even though it was a somewhat rundown place, it was sunny and full of live plants draping around the doorway. The haircutter was in her 40’s and was wearing blue shorts, T-shirt and sneakers. Her hair was piled up in a loose top knot.
There was a pudgy 12 year old boy playing with a bug trap track that had a battery powered roach running all over it. Finally, when it was his turn, he and his mother discussed their new kitten that apparently loves the water. ”Have you ever heard of a cat that likes water?” began his mom. ”Why, no.” answered the hairdresser.
“Well, we got one at our house,” replied his mom. ”She loves to jump in the shower with us and dunks her head under the faucet!”
“Is that right?” the hairdresser paused momentarily while picturing the image of a kitten in the shower with another person.
“Yeah, it’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” the mom continued.
When the boy was done with his haircut, his mom said, “Go out to the truck and show your daddy your haircut to make sure he likes it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He trudged outside and came back in a moment later. ”He likes it.”
“Ok, then, I’ll pay her and you clean up that bug trap,” the mother got up and went to pay the haircutter.
After paying, the mom sat down on the other chair while Jim got his haircut. It must have taken the boy 5 or 6 minutes to slowly clean up the bug trap toy. But the mother never once said, “C’mon, hurry up” or words to that effect. She just sat contentedly while he cleaned up the toy. He finally got done and they both said good-bye.
I couldn’t help but compare that scene to what it would have been like up in the Detroit area. Chances are the mother would have been more harried and probably would have pressured the child to “hurry up.” Or the mother might have jumped in and helped the child clean up the toy quickly just to get out of the shop.
Amidst all the well-deserved tributes and Andy Griffith Show memorial marathons on TV, I was reading about his personal life and noted that his adopted son, Andrew Griffith, Jr., died about 16 years ago of complications of alcoholism. This got me to thinking about what it must have been like to grow up as Andy Griffith’s son in real life. I imagine he would be about the same age as Ron Howard who played Opie on the Andy Griffith show and I wonder if it must have been difficult for the real son. I wonder if his real son compared his relationship to his father to that of Andy and Opie’s very close and respectful relationship on the show.
Putting myself in the real son’s place, I think I could not help but compare the two relationships, and, no doubt, the real relationship may not have been as positive as the TV show father and son. Maybe Andy Griffith, Jr. found he wasn’t the son Opie was and made impossible demands on himself to live up to a TV ideal. I don’t know but I think there is a story in this man’s life. I may be reading too much into this but I wonder why the real son drank himself to death at such an early age which seems to be nearly 40! Wow! Also, I wonder how it was for him to see the TV son, Ron Howard, grow up to be a successful film director. Did he envy Ron Howard all his life and find himself wanting by comparison? Again, I am only speculating. For that matter, did Andy Griffith, Sr. compare the two sons either openly or unwittingly? Did the real son sense the comparison? Did he sense others comparing him to the Opie ideal? Lots of questions and I wonder if he drank himself to death to escape the constant comparisons……
(Photo) “Lazy teachers” aren’t the obstacle to improving education in this country. Lack of funding & resources, huge class sizes, segregation, budget cuts, and low pay & benefits ARE.
Throws tha hamma down!
The Ultimate Simplified Guide to The Use of Evernote in Education
Phil Harris—that’s what I like about the south!
That's what I like about the South
Today we had a plumber come in to do some work. While there, he got to talking about Rockwood, Tennessee which is about 45 min. from here. That is also where my nephew in law comes from. His name is Greg Horton. Well, when I mentioned that to the plumber, he said “I know that name. There are a lot of Hortons in Rockwood.”
Then he said, “There used to be an older gentleman named Mr. Horton but everyone called him Hole in the Head Horton because he had a gash in his head for a long time. He got it when he was young. While riding in the streetcar, he stuck his head out and got bashed in by another street car!”
The plumber went on, “Well, he was fine for many years and he just went by that nickname, Hole in the Head Horton. Before there were street signs, everyone lived in different regions of Rockwood and he lived in Crawdad Hole section—nice section and a nice man!”
Where else can you be totally entertained by a plumber but in the South?!