Jeremiah's School of Levitation
Upsy-Daisy!
Friday, July 07, 2006
Friday Rock
The word that we are to study on was "rock." Here's my bit, in the form of a 15-minute free write.
Rock
"They've changed all the rules," said Grandpa, quite suddenly, his face getting screwed up and strange. I gasped.
Grandpa, you understand, don't say so much anymore. He had that thing go wrong in his head four years ago, that stroke, and he pretty much shut up from then on. Used to be he'd talk a hole in a wall, as daddy used to say, but now, he is just a wall, like daddy says now. The old rock of the family is now just really a rock.
We were visiting him, on his farm in Alabama. He had about 8 acres that he used to plow and raise chickens and cows and pigs on, but now, he can't do none of that work, so my dad's brothers have taken over and a couple of his brothers sit on computers in the house all day and don't do much work on the land. The other two brothers have put up trailer homes on the lot, drink a lot of alcohol, entertain dirty women, and sometimes, they do some of the work, but not near as much as Grandpa used to do.
The feel of the air was the same these days, the sun still shining the same as I remember when I was younger, the heat simmering around the dirt and grass, and I can still hear the stream splooshing from down the way, where we used to get our pure spring water, but, these days, things have changed and although the air feels almost the same as before, the feeling on Grandpa's farm seems different now that he can't tend to it. Half the pigs and cows and chickens are dead and eaten up, and the grass gets too big in some places and the vegetables bolt all the time.
And, usually, Grandpa just sits around, watching television, his head tilting to one side or the other, and he won't say a word. Sometimes, when the news shows war pictures, he points at it. He used to be in a war, he told us, long ago, when he could talk. I asked him if he was just pointing at the TV or is he pretending he has a gun and is fighting the Raquis.
He just shook his head and pointed his finger at his own head. So, I was hoping then he was just pretending he was pointing a finger and not the gun.
I always asked him questions knowing that he wouldn't say nothing anyway. And, my little rotten sister Terri always hushed me, saying "Randolph James Note! You know Grandpa got no words left!" And I tell her to shut all the way up because I know that Grandpa is still thinking the words and I tell her that I wished she would have no words left, at least when she came to talk to me.
But, today, when I was alone with Grandpa, me reading and him watching the TV, I asked Grandpa what he thought about them new folks down past the treeline, who moved in yesterday, with their big Hummer truck that was all shiny and black and, like my daddy said, looked like a shit-eating grin on wheels.
And, Grandpa said, "They've changed all the rules!"
"Grandpa!" I said.
Grandpa looked at me, scratched his forehead, and grunted. Then, he looked away.
"Grandpa!" I said, "Say something else!"
He rolled his big, yellowing eyes over to me and grunted again.
I walked up closer to him. I had been reading a Space Cat book, but I'd dropped it already but I didn't even figure I'd dropped it until I stepped on it as I walked to my grandpa.
"Grandpa?"
"Boy," he said, "They've changed the rules of war. We can't be fighting like we used to fight. War ain't what it used to be. Just like me. I just gotta sit here now. I don't want to fight the world no more. The rules have changed on me! God won't let me die, but, I don't think he has no way of controlling how I live. So, I'm gonna sit here and let everything bust up around me. Go get me some water. And, you better not tell anybody I was talking to you. Like they'd believe it anyway." He rubbed my head, then turned to face the TV, and he let his own head tilt to one side again.
After a second, he glanced over to me.
"Boy, you act like you've never heard a rock talk before! Now go get me some water!"
Rock
"They've changed all the rules," said Grandpa, quite suddenly, his face getting screwed up and strange. I gasped.
Grandpa, you understand, don't say so much anymore. He had that thing go wrong in his head four years ago, that stroke, and he pretty much shut up from then on. Used to be he'd talk a hole in a wall, as daddy used to say, but now, he is just a wall, like daddy says now. The old rock of the family is now just really a rock.
We were visiting him, on his farm in Alabama. He had about 8 acres that he used to plow and raise chickens and cows and pigs on, but now, he can't do none of that work, so my dad's brothers have taken over and a couple of his brothers sit on computers in the house all day and don't do much work on the land. The other two brothers have put up trailer homes on the lot, drink a lot of alcohol, entertain dirty women, and sometimes, they do some of the work, but not near as much as Grandpa used to do.
The feel of the air was the same these days, the sun still shining the same as I remember when I was younger, the heat simmering around the dirt and grass, and I can still hear the stream splooshing from down the way, where we used to get our pure spring water, but, these days, things have changed and although the air feels almost the same as before, the feeling on Grandpa's farm seems different now that he can't tend to it. Half the pigs and cows and chickens are dead and eaten up, and the grass gets too big in some places and the vegetables bolt all the time.
And, usually, Grandpa just sits around, watching television, his head tilting to one side or the other, and he won't say a word. Sometimes, when the news shows war pictures, he points at it. He used to be in a war, he told us, long ago, when he could talk. I asked him if he was just pointing at the TV or is he pretending he has a gun and is fighting the Raquis.
He just shook his head and pointed his finger at his own head. So, I was hoping then he was just pretending he was pointing a finger and not the gun.
I always asked him questions knowing that he wouldn't say nothing anyway. And, my little rotten sister Terri always hushed me, saying "Randolph James Note! You know Grandpa got no words left!" And I tell her to shut all the way up because I know that Grandpa is still thinking the words and I tell her that I wished she would have no words left, at least when she came to talk to me.
But, today, when I was alone with Grandpa, me reading and him watching the TV, I asked Grandpa what he thought about them new folks down past the treeline, who moved in yesterday, with their big Hummer truck that was all shiny and black and, like my daddy said, looked like a shit-eating grin on wheels.
And, Grandpa said, "They've changed all the rules!"
"Grandpa!" I said.
Grandpa looked at me, scratched his forehead, and grunted. Then, he looked away.
"Grandpa!" I said, "Say something else!"
He rolled his big, yellowing eyes over to me and grunted again.
I walked up closer to him. I had been reading a Space Cat book, but I'd dropped it already but I didn't even figure I'd dropped it until I stepped on it as I walked to my grandpa.
"Grandpa?"
"Boy," he said, "They've changed the rules of war. We can't be fighting like we used to fight. War ain't what it used to be. Just like me. I just gotta sit here now. I don't want to fight the world no more. The rules have changed on me! God won't let me die, but, I don't think he has no way of controlling how I live. So, I'm gonna sit here and let everything bust up around me. Go get me some water. And, you better not tell anybody I was talking to you. Like they'd believe it anyway." He rubbed my head, then turned to face the TV, and he let his own head tilt to one side again.
After a second, he glanced over to me.
"Boy, you act like you've never heard a rock talk before! Now go get me some water!"
Elliot, 7:55 AM
2 Back at me:
I have goosebumps all over my body. Even my toes and my hair.
Makes me miss my grandpa, who died in a wild wind when I was kneehigh to a grasshopper.
Excellent writing, man, just...well...goosebumpy!
Makes me miss my grandpa, who died in a wild wind when I was kneehigh to a grasshopper.
Excellent writing, man, just...well...goosebumpy!
that was beautiful, just beautiful!!!
I just can't stop smiling....
I just can't stop smiling....
