Good Morning.
I happen to believe that every single person from the time of Adam and Eve has been or is a unique individual the likes of which were not seen before and won't be seen again. We're talking serious creative genius here that some people find absolutely delicious and some, unfortunately, find distressing. In my world everyone has gifts and flaws and even some goofiness - not the kind that makes someone afraid to leave the house or wipe down the doorknobs ten times a day. It also has nothing to do with trends like having a pet rock or a hula hoop. It's doing stuff that most people don't do or not doing things that most people do without thinking.
My aunt, an accomplished professional and a single woman all her life, couldn't follow a map or directions to get almost anywhere. She could find her way to work or to other familiar places close to home but venture out of town? Not in a million years. She got lost all the time, often arrived late for a holiday or other occasion, and drove her brother, my father,
absolutely nuts. He was an attorney and an incredibly bright man, a fabulous skier, a master bridge player, and an avid reader who bought the most horrifying Christmas trees on the planet. He quibbled over price for a clump of twigs that should have been used for kindling. The tree went up on December 23rd and came down on the 26th. My stepmother finally dealt
with the matter by getting an artificial tree and setting it up when she, not he, felt like it.
I once knew someone who had different shaped bowls for different kinds of cereal. Cheerios went in one kind of bowl,
Raisin Bran in another, Rice Krispies in a third. I had a college roommate who left the drawers in her dresser open all the time. This allowed her easy access to a pair of socks but was not good in the middle of the night when either of us got up for any reason. There was a woman who used to walk around in my neighborhood with a cockatoo on her shoulder. I had another aunt who always wore a hat to church on Sunday, came home, stripped down to her slip to cook breakfast, but failed to remove the hat. There she was at the stove, flipping the French toast in her stocking feet, dainty lace with straps, and a floral-covered item on her head.
My husband, who could knock off The New York Times Sunday crossword in under an hour, hated to throw out food, even with expired dates. He adored leftovers and combined ingredients like cold chicken parmesan, sliced beets, and spinach dip into a sandwich. He used bargain shampoo on his hair but had no problem spending a generous amount on groceries because he was a fabulous cook. His priorities were a jug of Suave that lasted six months and fresh seafood and heirloom tomatoes.
It was fortunate that he gravitated toward the supermarket because unlike most American women, I hate to shop. I avoid the grocery store like the plague even though I, like the previously mentioned gentleman, love good food. I cannot imagine spending even half an hour in a mall or getting all excited about finding one of those outlets where you can pick up a designer bag or a London Fog trench coat for half price.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have my coffee, Maxwell House not Starbucks, and watch Gunsmoke.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
Comments