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,
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.
The Parmenter Gambit.
