Thursday, January 17, 2008

A Fish Tale

We all have a “character” in our lives. For some of us, that character may be as peripheral as the lady down the street with 18 cats, all named after famous authors; or the old guy in the next apartment who always wears a sea-captain’s hat and says “Ahoy, Matey” when he meets you in the hall. Even though you know the largest body of water he’s ever seen is the swimming hole at the end of main street, you answer in kind, give him a salute and carry on your way. He’s harmless, and if it makes him happy to imagine he’s on the open seas, captaining his vessel, ever-vigilant for pirates, that’s fine with you.

The “character” in the Bag Lady’s life is the Cowboy’s uncle. He looks like a cross between Festus (Matt Dillon’s sidekick) and Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies. He has looked exactly the same for 50-odd years (the Bag Lady knows this, because she has seen photos of him from his youth!) and his looks will probably never change. He HAS changed in recent years, though. About 10 years ago, he moved into a senior’s lodge in the little town where he lives, and started THINKING he was old. So he got old overnight.

A life-long bachelor, he has managed to survive 75 years unencumbered by wife, children, a home, or any sense of responsibility. He never accumulated much beyond what he could carry down the road. When he did have more than he could carry, he would abandon it with nary a backwards glance. He worked winters in logging camps, and spent summers on the chuckwagon circuit, or working on his brother’s cattle ranch.
He has spent his life staying with friends in one place after another, always coming back to his brother when he was down on his luck. Which was often, because as soon as he had money in his pocket, he was in the bar, drinking with his ‘buddies’ until the money was gone.

In his youth, he was incredibly fast on his feet – could catch a rabbit with his bare hands - and could work hard if he wanted to. He had a hair-trigger temper, and would take off down the road at the least slight, real or imagined. Occasionally, it would be years until he showed up again, down and out, looking for a place to stay. His brother always took him in. Now, with his brother gone, Uncle G. stays with the Cowboy.

When the Cowboy was young, Uncle G. was his hero. He told great stories, and the Cowboy would hang on his every word. The Cowboy would put his tiny feet into Uncle G.’s cowboy boots and stomp around, pretending to be a wrangler.

Once the Cowboy was out on his own in the world, Uncle G. would stay with him, ostensibly helping on the ranch. Uncle G. was totally incompetent when it came to running any kind of machinery. He once took off down the field in the combine, forgetting to take the brake off. Wasn’t too long before the Cowboy (back at the house) noticed a plume of smoke from up on the field and decided he had better go have a look. There was Uncle G., blithely driving along the field, with the entire row smoking behind him. The brake had gotten hot; the shoes fell out into the swath and set it on fire. Uncle G. never looks back. When the Cowboy’s father found out, he yelled, “You didn’t let him drive my combine!!?”


Another time, the Cowboy got the grain-truck stuck in the mud. He got Uncle G. to bring the tractor to pull out the grain-truck. Uncle G. hooked up the chain, jumped in the tractor and took off, never looking back. Pulled the bumper right off the grain-truck. The Cowboy’s father’s response? You guessed it. “You didn’t let him drive the tractor, did you!!?”


Uncle G. is full of stories. In fact, he never stops talking. He will tell you his stories over and over. And over. He has foot and mouth disease. As soon as his feet hit the floor, his mouth opens. He talks constantly, and the Bag Lady, being accustomed to spending a good portion of her day alone, has a hard time with that. She was raised to be polite to her elders, to never interrupt, and to never leave a room when someone is talking. She has spent many of his visits feeling trapped, unable to maintain her daily routine because she couldn’t bring herself to be rude. Uncle G. would follow her from room to room, telling his stories. He even followed her into the bathroom one day!

Uncle G. has been visiting the Cowboy and the Bag Lady. The Bag Lady has been politely listening to stories, and not getting any housework done. Uncle G. left today. As peace descends once more on the Bag Lady’s house, she remembers what her mother always said about house guests:
“House guests are like fish – they should be thrown out after 3 days.”

16 comments:

Hilary said...

Walleye for one, I'm glad your haddock source is no longer pirching at your house. I had to say that.. just for the halibut.

Well-written, Baggie. :)

the Bag Lady said...

Oh, Hil, the Bag Lady knew she could count on you! In more ways than one!! Thanks for your support lately - if ever the Bag Lady can return the favour, don't hesitate to ask!

Crabby McSlacker said...

Indeed, a great "character" study.

I do believe you need to revisit that rule about not leaving the room when someone is telling a story, at least in this particular instance. And I think I'd find myself getting a bit curt with someone who would try to follow me in to the bathroom. (And it takes a LOT for me to get curt with people).

Thank goodness he's gone!

Leah J.Utas said...

Glad he's
a) gone from your home
b)you see the humour
c)you got a great post out of it.
Told with great gentleness and fun dfBag Lady. Very well done.

the Bag Lady said...

Crabby - it takes a lot for the spineless Bag Lady to get curt, too. The bathroom incident pretty much fixed it, though...

dfLeah - thanks so much! The Bag Lady is much relieved that he had a change of heart and decided to return home.

Missicat said...

If we don't have a character in our lives...does that mean that WE are the character??? oh no!

Sarah said...

People who follow you into the bathroom. I've been there! Awkward, very awkward. I mean what do you do? "I'm sorry to interrupt but I've had to pee for the last 10 minutes of your story and unless you want a show you should give me some privacy."

That would probably be more effective, but like you, my politeness took over and I just stood there going "uh huh?", wondering why they thought I would want to have a conversation in the bathroom...

Clare2e said...

Oh, Bag Lady- I have a female relative who does the same thing!

She repeats the same stories and negative observations over and over while following me around from room to room so I can't escape! I'm a more independent, solitary creature, too, (especially in the mornings) and she's an absolute lark. She also keeps demanding confirmation and/or agreement with her every point, which sometimes just isn't ethically possible. How I know that feeling, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, wishing for the most delicately-strung clue racket to smack the dear old thing with.

Congrats on reclaiming your peace, and if Uncle G. left with a smile, you've done yoelady service.

JavaChick said...

I admire your patience and your hospitality. Enjoy having your house back!

Reb said...

I think even Mom would forgive you walking out on him. Actually Mom would have found a polite way to make him shut up, why did we never learn THAT from her?

Sydney Speel said...

www.sydneyspeel.blogspot.com

trade links?

the Bag Lady said...

missicat, there are characters, and then there are characters, and the Bag Lady is sure you are a very charming 'character'!!

Sarah, isn't that the worst!? You're standing there, thinking you're about to pee your pants, and wishing they would just shut up!!

Clare - you, too!? Wish there was some polite way to escape. At least, with another female, you can always just whip down your pants...maybe she'd get the message! The Bag Lady is too modest to do that in front of Uncle G., but it might have gotten the message across.
Then again, maybe not...

Thanks, Javachick! The Cowboy was off work today, so it's been pretty busy around here, but tomorrow the Bag Lady should have some solitude again!

Reb, mother did take a few little secrets to her grave, didn't she?

Sydney, the Bag Lady will come and visit.

elasticwaistbandlady said...

My husband is Mexican. I'm ever so thankful that he would never, ever, ever want to live in a culturally traditional multi-generational home because that would drive me insane.

Glad you survived the week!

the Bag Lady said...

EWBL - couldn't agree more! If he was living here all the time, the Bag Lady would be far less accomodating, for sure.

Anonymous said...

You pegged Uncle G to a "T"
Will have to remember to show your story to Dad when he gets here.

Cousin Lorraine

the Bag Lady said...

Thanks, Lorraine!
Enjoy your visit with your dad.