bleckblog: musings of a community college english teacher

12/17/05

Hey B------,

It was good to hear from you. I’ve been meeting to drop you a line, and I’m glad to have the time now to sit down and write. As usual, I’m going to have to post this because the plan to bring the internet up here has yet to pan out. Supposedly they will be setting up some site-to-site wi-fi system, but the final few towers linking us to a fiber-optic link are still under construction, never mind do they know when the dishes will be mounted on the towers and the rest of the hardware installed. It will be nice to get quicker access to the world once that’s done, but for now we’re stuck with radio and satellite television or a dial-up account which is too expensive and too slow to even both with.

I never knew that this part of the state would be such a problem to provide access to. I wanted peace and quiet, and to be away from the hell that is living in the city, even a city the size of Spokane, but I’m learning that there can be a new kind of hell, that I liked a certain degree of connectedness to the world that I don’t have here. As things stand, I have to drive into town to post a letter. I can’t afford satellite television, so they only contact I get is through the public radio station, and when that transmitter goes down, as it usually does in heavy weather, I’m all but cut off. I never thought I’d miss having the newspaper delivered to my door, but now I have to drive off the mountain into town to pick one up, which usually means I don’t get one unless I head in for groceries. Who would have thought that in 2005 the radio would be my lifeline to the world?

But enough whining about me. Last time I heard, you were having some trouble with your father and step-mother and brother. How’s that going? Has anything been resolved? Maybe you should come up for a visit, get away from all the crap. It’s amazing, despite my just finished complaining, how refreshing it can be to be out of the loop, unless you think about being out of the loop. That’s when it gets crazy. Get in touch. Write back so I can be in the loop.

Tobias

18 November 2005

Tobias,

I was just thinking about writing when your letter came. Sorry for the tangent I flew off on. The only thing new that’s going on is L----- went off on me about the painting. It seems if it’s a gift from him, there are strings attached.

It’s odd though, that thinks have unfolded in the way they have. I can’t remember how long I’ve admired the painting they gave me this past Christmas. While they have given us other gifts of art in the past, some of interest, some less so, I’ve loved this painting since I first laid eyes on it. The painting itself is simple in its topic—a grove of birch trees in a light that I can’t quite explain. The light is muted, not crisp, but not in a plein air sort of muting. I think I’d have to describe the lighting as surreal as the air has a green tinge to it. I don’t know why I’ve always loved this painting, but I have. As you know, L----- bought it, no doubt cheaply, from a friend of theirs, maybe through a gallery in the Los Angeles area; I can’t remember. I remember it hanging in their house in near Mount Shasta, adorning the dining room wall. It felt so at home there.

I was shocked, almost stunned, when I unwrapped it at Christmas. I never really expected it as a gift, though when L----- and Alexis would ask me what I liked when it came to art, I always thought of that painting, and told them so. Never, never did I expect them to give it to me, though I’d always hoped that someday they might. But it always looked so good in their Shasta house, and in the Portland house once they’d moved north. I couldn’t imagine them giving it to me.

But now that they have, please though I am to have it, I have to wonder at their motives. It almost seems that they gave it more as a bribe, an enticement, than a gift. I gushed, as you know, literally gushed my thanks and enthusiasm with receiving such a gift. All of this was genuine as you know. But now I come to find out that I did not gush enough, that my expressions of thanks and gratitude were all for naught, all because I didn’t act toward Roddy as they had wanted. This seems so much like our previous visit to them during the prior summer. They had expectations for the visit, and the Christmas visit, but they never shared these expectations with me. We were going to work some things out, though they never said what things or that we had this time to work them out. When I didn’t read their mind, didn’t bring up the concerns they wanted me to raise, unbeknownst to me, then I had somehow betrayed them and corrupted the visit.

I know it all goes back to the question L------ asked just before we were to leave town for the visit: Would we mind sharing some rooms with Roddy? I said, yes, I would mind, that it wouldn’t be comfortable to share living space with a brother I hardly knew and had so little in common with, and his new girlfriend. L----- and Alexis clearly expected me to say that it would be no trouble, that we would be happy to share the rooms with them. They asked a question to which they expected only one answer—the answer they wanted. I gave them the answer they didn’t want, the answer that really wasn’t an option. They gave me Hobson’s Choice and I gave them an honest answer, and so we had a falling out, and after that, nothing could be good enough.

Then, as the trip is nearly over, as we are packing the car to head home, with a desire to be the sunset to make the drive easier and safer, Roddy decides he wants to talk to me. As Grace and I are packing the car, he wants to talk, he wants to know what problems I have with him. As you can guess, it was hardly a time for talking with the three of us rushing to get the car loaded, to get the painting and all of our other stuff loaded in a way that would protect the painting. As you can guess, I told him it wasn’t a good time to talk, that I didn’t have anything against him, but that I didn’t know him and I felt we had very little, beyond our father, in common. There was little more than this to our discussion. At the time I wasn’t sure how he took it, the idea that I didn’t see much in common between us, that despite that I hoped he would play a part in Edward’s life as his uncle, that he had a lot to offer Edward, but in reality, little to offer me and Grace at this point in our lives and relationship.

Mother’s boy that he is, he had talked to his parents almost as soon as we were done talking. We dropped by L----- and Alexis’ to say our goodbyes, which seemed strained, awkward, though I didn’t put things together at the time. Later I learned that he had called them in the few minutes drive between the houses. Later still I learned that L----- and Alexis took everything he said as unerringly as they do Gospel and everything I had to say as some sort of apostasy. We’ve been at loggerheads ever since, with an occasional email or letter (usually I write a letter and they respond via email). As much as I try to get away from the email communication, they cling to it. So much gets misread in email, much more so than in a pen and paper letter. Perhaps the words are stripped to their essence, standing on their own more so than they do when conveyed by one’s handwriting and penmanship. Perhaps the medium allows one to read into the text whatever they wish, regardless of what the words actually convey. Or maybe L----- is just a lousy reader. All he reads is magazines, rarely, if ever, does he read books. And almost never does he read imaginative works. Maybe he just can’t connect with other characters, even fictional characters. Instead, he has to focus on cars, or computers, or other technology toys and gadgets.

As you can probably tell, this back and forth, this he-said, she-said business is making me crazy. Every time I try to reconcile in some way, every time I reach out to make some attempt to connect, he fixates on something, something he has misread, and attributes his misreading, no matter the context, to my having too much anger to have a reasonable and rational discussion. The problem is, the only thing that is reasonable and rational to him is my accepting his view as the correct view, his thoughts on the matter as the correct thoughts, and any blame to be lain is to be lain at my feet and no his, Alexis’ or Roddy’s feet. Now, I know I’m not blameless here. At the very least I should have kept my thoughts to myself, not told him I minded sharing space with Roddy and his new girlfriend. I hate to invoke cliché, but perhaps discretion is the better part of valor in such an instance.

At the same time, doing so would have only put off the inevitable. I don’t think I could have put up with the infallibility of Roddy for much longer. The son who never finished anything, no matter how much help they provided, no matter how many opportunities they created for him, no matter how much praise they heaped upon him while all they offered me was criticism and critique. I drank too much soda. I drank too much coffee. I shouldn’t use so much refined sugar. On and on and on and on regarding his greatness, real or imagined, and mostly imagined, all in contrast to me and my human failings, real or imagined, but mostly just lacking context. Perhaps in the long run it’s better to abandon the last of my biology. At the same time, it’s not something I want to lose, to conceivably be alone in the world but for Edward and Grace.

I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts on all this when you have a chance.

B-----