11,958. RUDIMENTS, pt. 766

RUDIMENTS, pt 766

(a real festival day)

There are always monumental

things the we each have to

deal with or overcome. The

big 'lurch,' as it were, for each

us, is recognizing maybe what

that is and then facing it off.

Sometimes it's easy and

people thrive. Other times,

they're all tripped up from

the very start, stumbling and

howling about every small

thing. In my own, one, respect,

being a 'Libra'  -  so I was

told and I can't refute  -  even

though I consider myself to

have been reborn and re-entered

into this life at a later time again
from that, I always thought,

'if there's a middle ground out

there, I could sure use it now.'

That's was just the way I was,

I guessed, sort of holding steady,

trying to clean to the middle.

'The Fool's Gambit,' it should

be called. (That's a reference to

the game of chess, in which

opening moves, traditionally,

have been given names. The

Elephant Gambit, the Danish

Gambit (throwing a pastry at

your opponent?), the Dutch

Defence, the Banko Gambit,

etc.). So, now you know.

-

The house had 2 pianos in it.

That was kind of a real plus,

since it was also a surprise,

except they were in an unheated

side room attached to the house,

with lots of glass and a separate

doorway too; 20 years previous

it too had been one of those

Justice of the Peace offices,

a Notary, and a tax-payment

office too. The merest evidences

of that remained  -  the outside

and separate entry, the small

porch lantern there, etc. The

two pianos, side by side almost,

but apart too by 30 feet, were

pretty cool together, one was

perfect, to play, and the other

was ratty, with one or two dead

keys and bad movement. I'd

go in there and just plink away

now and then; not so much in

the cold. It was a nice room, and

I often thought to myself how it

was a completely nothing space

in a big old house that really

didn't need that at all. Sometimes

I sit around now and just mutter,

'Damn it all, if I had that back...'

-

There were some 12 acres with it,

and two ponds there too, one feeding

into the other, in steps, the lower one

being larger. I saw lots of animals,

once March broke; oddball things

skittering around  -  they were

muskrats  -  kind of, to the eye, a

mix of a small seal and a rat, but

they took to the water like perfection.

And then, of course, as always goes,

some local farm guy says 'Get rid of

them, now, and early, because the only

reason they're there is that the pond's

been neglected. They burrow and cut,

and they'll have the whole pond

drained on you before you know it.'

I never did a thing, and the ponds

never did drain. Lazy muskrats,

I had. Then when Spring finally

did come, there were bullfrogs,

massive weird nighttime noises, a

screech owl or two at the barn,

peepers in the trees, with their

incessant high yawp for the Spring.

(That same farmer told me the

peepers were a good sign of the

forthcoming of Spring. They'd

freeze three times; meaning it

would go below 32 degrees three

more times at night, then they'd be

gone). That's exactly how it did

happen, and then Spring came,

maybe mid-April. Once May,

and then June arrived, sunshine

and a little heat, there were flies

Flies everywhere, believe me.

As if they all awoke or were

born at once  -  large and small

somehow, all together. Every

footstep taken, during this period

of time, anywhere in the yard, grass, 

etc, would roust hundreds of flies

It was unstoppable. The first few

days of such an infestation drove

us crazy, never having faced 

anything like that; but then we

were told they go away quickly,

15 days at most and it's all over.

I can't remember, but they did

go away. Then there were what

we called 'face bugs.' Gnats I

guess, that swarmed. Tiny black

fliers, of which 20 or 30 at a

time would knot and hang 

around a person's face, the

breathing and exhaling being 

the attraction. You ended up

just swatting them, your hand

fanning in front of your face, 

and you trying not to breath

them in as you talked. It was

weird. They were mostly

always around, until evening 

anyway. They'd disappear.

Inside the house, in those

upper floors, with all that

sunlight pouring in, those 

same large flies, that first

Spring, were all over the 

windows. They'd die, as they

baked dry or whatever, and 

just fall. Piles of them under

each window. You could hear

all the buzzing too. You see,

these were all new things 

for me and nothing was more

surprising, also, than learning

about all the weird stuff that

happened because of a long

period of vacancy. A few years,

I guess, anyway, since this Denton

Parmenter guy had up and left

the house. (He'd gone to Ohio

to relocate).  The stories about

him were legion. But I guess he

came back, even if dead, because

now when I go there he's buried 

on the hilltop. There's a small  -

leastways it was small then but

has grown larger now  -  cemetery

there comprised of all the people

who've lived at that hilltop. It

goes back generations, like 1810

maybe; old, carved markers, and

an old, tall wrought-iron cemetery

gate, like the tall kind you never

see any more. (Cemeteries have

sure gotten boring). Whatever,

Parmenter's in there now, along

with the other people I knew,

those who may have been in their

40'd and 50's back when I was

around. One time after we'd

settled in and the new stuff was

all working and good, some guy

came to the door. He was about 

30 maybe. He said he wanted

to say hi, and asked if he could

come in for a spell. I was confused,

and he started tell me he was the

youngest Parmenter kid, and had

grown up there. He was back,

just visiting. I didn't complain or

nothing, but I did ask about his

Dad and why the heck he'd gone

to Ohio. The kid said 'My father

couldn't take it around here any 

more. He said it was too busy. 

You know what he's like.' (I had 

no clue actually, but didn't let on).

I was kind of shocked. Too busy!

Around here? There was maybe

12 people for every square mile.

I couldn't imagine what he was 

talking about, but he said his 

father was real happy out there 

now, in those open, wilds of 

farmy Ohio. We had a beer, and

then he left. I only heard later

that I only got a part of that 

story. Parmenter was nearly

driven out of that locale because

he was a cheat, bum, owed

everyone money never repaid,

chased everyone's wives, and

was lucky to have gotten 

away without being skinned

alive. 'He'd damn-well better

be happy in Ohio.' It must have

been a real fun trip when his

dead body got dragged back in

for burial. A real festival day!
The Parmenter Gambit.