Three Paragraphs of Holiday Weekend

My wife’s cousin has a big house at the lake, a glass eye, a Great Dane, a tortoise, a pig, two hens, and a fainting goat tied to a post in the yard, the last miraculously spared (so far) by the mountain lions that come down from the hills. All patriotic food groups were duly represented: roast turkey, stuffing, potatoes, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie – and we did our duty. Home again, we tucked in the children and put up our heels before the simulated fireplace looping on the television screen, brooding over mugs of smoky Russian tea.

The boy announced tonight that he was afraid of the Snark. Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up, I told him.  But then, on reflection, I’m not sure that people are really any more afraid of terrorists (or snarks) than they used to be; or of radiation, or being groped by strangers. If fear is gaining these days it’s primarily in two varieties: 1) the fear of litigation, and 2) the mongered sort of fear, traded like sturgeon or Persian rugs for cash or ‘political capital.’ It’s always an ‘adroit demonology’ (in Mencken’s phrase) that wins customers and votes.

With a surfeit of free time due to the holiday, I’m mastering ‘Yankee Doodle’ on the ukelele, not trimming my beard, and reading J.G. Farrell’s Troubles. Before bed I set the Farrell aside to read snippets of Vico instead, which is just dry and disorienting enough (‘…the Assyrian kingdom was born overnight, like frogs after a summer storm…’) to transport me direct to Surrealist dreamland. My wife, meanwhile, is in love with Flaubert and halfway through Bouvard and Pecuchet, which I’d been saving for a special occasion. She’s ruining it for me by reading so much of it aloud. You and your ‘Flobby,’ I say. I’m not sure which of you to be jealous of.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Three Paragraphs

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s