If you've ever sold a piece of property ... or even if you've just packed up as a renter and moved to a new location, I think you will identify with a recent experience of LOREE, Kansas.
But let's let her tell about it:
Somehow, I fell into a trance, Sunday ... for that was the day of auctioning off my home of twenty years. Very painful, and as scary as probably you feel, with the Saturday deadline for "Squiggles" straight ahead of you, and no time left.
(Loree, even Professor Squigglee gets nervous about that and starts pacing ... I can hear him now ... back and forth ... back and forth).
After several days of rain, Sunday afternoon saw the sun breaking through the clouds, though the hefty north wind raised goose bumps ... or maybe it was the approaching zero hour of 2 p.m.
In either case, I stayed inside the house, as the 'crowd' surged outside and gathered just off my little front porch, which, fortunately, is on the south side of the house, and therefore shielded them from that 'It's an ill wind that blows no good!' syndrome.
The windows were even open, and I was left standing inside the house, my ear glued to the screened window, so as not to miss anything.
The crowd consisted of three husky men, two of them auctioneers and the third, the 'clerk' or whatever title is bestowed upon them, my neighbor lady (there for obvious reasons ... to get a first look at her soon-to-be-neighbor!), my brother-in-law, and a dear friend from the senior center where I USED to go when I had the time.
Other than that? And this was the scary part ... one elderly couple who were interested in the place and wanted it badly, and a young couple with two little kids, who chased the cats, asked why my Jack Russell's tail had been cut off, and other pertinent questions!
The young couple had shown an interest in 'raising the kids in the country.' The thought crossed my mind that maybe they had been told to 'leave town' because of the kids?' Just kidding ... I was assured that they are no different than all the other kids their ages!
Anyway, only two bidders ... but that is all it takes when both are determined to have what they are bidding on. Starting at a mere $30,000 (which caused me to nearly pass out on the spot), the bidding jumped in increments of 10,000 dollars a lick, a sum that in itself, makes my eyes go tilt and my Pacemaker kick in!
At $70,000 I breathed a sigh of relief ... my 'goal' reached, I almost went limp and felt giddy.
But hold on ... the bidding wasn’t over! Like a car with brakes screeching, the bidding stopped and settled in just shy of $81,000.
And now the real work starts ... the packing, and if I'm lucky, I'll be able to find a few stolen minutes of my own, for a cup of coffee, and a slow look around, as I impress upon what mind I have left, images to last me forever.
(I know, this isn't the usual just-for-laughs kind of material you find in "Squiggles." In fact, I felt a strong emotional tug from Loree's experience ... turning loose of the place which was home for all those years. But I liked the feeling of "being there," and I liked her conclusion: Taking in those images which will stay with her now, wherever she goes. Oh, and who was the successful bidder, the older couple ... or the couple with those energetic kids? I forgot to ask.)
-S&G-
UPDATE - Brimm Manor is still not closed (electrical problems, remember?). We still have lights in part of the house, my computer is working (I’m the one who has low energy there), and help is on the way ... or so we’ve been told.
-S&G-
THERE MUST BE an election coming up in this neck of the woods. We’ve been getting a lot of calls from politicians ... rather, our answering machine has been getting a lot of calls (if we’re home and the phone rings, we’ve learned just to let the answering machine take the call ... saves us a lot of running ... and getting there too late anyway). Oh, and I don’t think the answering machine has decided which way it’s going to vote ... yet.
-S&G-
TODAY’S POEM - I think I tend to be too wordy. Not only in my poems, sometimes, but in my commentary, too.
Sorry about that.
Still, I do try to boil things down ... to reduce them to their essence. Readers are busy, in a hurry, have other things to do, so many other things calling for their attention.
I owe them some brevity ... and the more I talk about that, the less I'm giving them. Right?
What I started out to say was that the poem simply attempts to express the feeling that, while it's good to get away ... on a vacation, or even for a few days ... it's good to get back, too ... to be home again.
I could have said much more than that, but this was one of my very early poems, and I was under the mistaken impression that Capper's only published eight-line poems ... with short lines, at that.
For example, I could have talked about the curving gravel road leading to the barn on the place where I lived at one time ... about the lilacs and maples along that road ... about the big gray house ... the light in the window ...
More about that later, perhaps. For now, the little poem, the short version:
HOMECOMING
No matter how great
the vacation, there's
no sweeter song
than a quartet
of travel-weary tires
harmonizing
on the gravel
of your own driveway.
(originally published in Capper's)
-S&G-
COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like.
Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to
rbrimm@peoplepc.com
... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)
-S&G-
And if you’d like to see what’s up with my other, DAILY blog, here’s a link to it:
http://rbrimm.blogspot.com/
Thanks for paying a visit.
-S&G-
UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!
-S&G-
© 2010
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