The Knot

I made this post earlier,  me reminiscing and attaching a memory to emotion. It occurred to  me..to whoever that reads this…that I don’t know if I’ve explained my ties to memories…or better yet people.

My grandfather was a constant enigma. I can claim to know him..or a version of him.  This can be said generically cause it applies to everyone.  Your mother knows her father differently than you know your grandfather…..your aunt knows your grandmother differently than you do…this goes on with everyone in every version of family.   Billy was different.

My grandad was a hurried genius.  Seriously… the man was this brilliant person that shined in his kindness and honesty.   His integrity was something I was not appreciative of until only recently…understanding what “word is bond” actually meant.   That type of conviction is rare today….a black market currency between saints and thieves.  His passing was just over a year ago…his last years were lost to failing health and dementia..but to me…that frail and failing body was not my grandfather…it was the body holding on to earthy purchase. In conversations between us in better times we had both agreed that the mind is the driver , the body was the vehicle…..at the end… he had found a better vehicle for his consciousness. That’s all I really have to discuss about that. We die…it’s what we do. Those words are the same he said to me when I was very young when I lost a pet.   That’s what they do…they die….you love them while you can.  I totally hated him for that honesty….even when in later years he took ward over a pup that I could no longer take care of…and watched him modify his life for the love of that same dog.  His compassion and his eventual love for Barren was something I cannot write here.  The universe creates light in darkness… gives sinners hope….Barren gave my grand dad a friend when all of his selfish family had found purpose in mediocrity.

Yeah…even me.  I had important things to do.  The man that had given me the fire for knowledge…was accepting of the fact that I was young and stupid.   I was in my 30’s.   I remember being in my mid 20’s and living at the family’s “cabin”.   My grandfather was my unnamed “roommate” . He would show up late at night , on the run, on the lam, escaping from my grandmother ( aka …The War Department).   At one point when TWD had made the trip up there had been a falling out between my “PA” and I.  His words to me had pretty much been a barrage of mid century generational disgust and beguiled hope.   He told me that ” If you got your ass in the military they would show what the hell is up, Jesus H. Christ”  I responded in a late 90s indignant punk resurgence retort ” Fuck You”.  ( years earlier, this same man, had literally pulled me from a marine recruiters clutches stating “it’s not a thinking mans service” )  Later that night… corrupt with shame…. I wrote him a letter professing to  him my apology and that I had no direction and …my 20 something self….longed to just have his arms around me… be that 8 year old that crawled in to bed when I was scared and told it was all right.

My grandfather never acknowledged that letter.  I understand now that it was him telling me to grow the fuck up.  It was not that he didn’t care…I wasn’t 8…..I was a man and it was time to learn what it meant to find your own path. Wrong or right…sink or swim.    My heart broke not being acknowledged….and for a long time I had contempt for him…I judged him and chastised him for what I viewed as his weaknesses.

I want you to know …if you’ve taken the time to read this… he kept the letter…in his dresser drawer.    20 years later…he kept it.  It wasn’t a hallmark moment, not a movie moment.  I found it getting him a Previcid.   An acid reflux pill.  Yep…that’s my emotional marker…   Previcid…takes care of that spicy burrito but will totally emotionally fuck your grandson years later.  I truly believe that he planned it…knowing his humor…litmus test positive.

After the non response to the letter.

I left.

I went to Utah.   Yeah…like UTAH.  I wasn’t broken by the “no” response.  I  was fractured in other ways.   My high school girlfriend had left me…I was bombing at college….I was…frumpy.     I was … midwest boring. As much as my grand dad was abrasive to me..he was also my greatest supporter.   My grandmother once told me that he had stopped her when she had taken issue with my attitude ( my grandfather rarely spoke to my grandmother in opposition)  … Billy told her ” to let it go…the boys heart is hurting and you cant fix  it”      That right there…learning it in passing…had me staring in the mirror and ashamed of my disrespect.

So…What the fuck Workman… what the hell…whats up with this “Knot” post..

You will  know a man by the quality of his works.

Time has its way with us all and it had it’s inevitable end for my grandfather.  I am not what you would characterize as “sentimental”.   Seriously…all of this stuff..it’s memory.   Others in my family would be saving  your first diaper.  My mind is the library of my life…the stuff I write here will outlive me…on some little server somewhere..and with luck those word will continue on when I am a unclaimed corpse in the desert ( life goals!)

The Knot.

My grandfather passed on last year…my grandmother is now in elder care.  Their home in Lake Orion has sat… in stasis.

There are many childhood stories to relay in that 4 bedroom ranch.   BB guns…..first kisses…Theft and angst…. loss and dysfunction..pools and American pie.   All of that is gone..Tonight is The Knot.

So when you die and your spouse resides in a retirement home.   Your shit gets gone.   It’s inevitable and don’t get pissed that I said  ” gets gone”. Seriously.. we only borrow the things we own.  It’s the reality of it all.  Life-Death-Taxes.   So there I am…on a ladder.  Moving a box around in the garage rafters.   Pool stuff…. solar cover…. hoses in a failing garbage bag…. and then a box.

evy-Duty..reen cov…double..pper…

My brain was adept at filling in the missing constants and vowels. The images of us at Metamora campground when I was young…running to this screen tent…cause mosquito were winged demons at 8 years old and the screen tent was this oasis. Not that I minded the mustard gas they sprayed on us in the early 80’s….but the screen tent was.. well …it was the shit.   Like  wearing new Jordans on the first day of school when every one was wearing British Knights.  ( yeah boy… I know that 90s swag)

So finding that cryptic insect impermeable fortress was like finding a camping mecca.   I had this vision of me at Wheatland… relaxing all night in my private cabana….( at this point please cue up ” Big Pimipin” by Jay-Z ( the dirty version))

And then… after loading it… travelling the 125 miles home..unloading it… getting a shower and relaxing… deciding it was time to go an inspect what I had removed from my childhood Narnia.  Sitting there on the bench…old clothesline tied into slip knots…was my grandfathers obvious handiwork.

Well…fuck me… I think I need a prevacid.

3 taught lines…as taught as the day the day they were employed.  The symmetrical loops, each one roughly two inches in loop…snug…but ready to be released when called.  His Navy technique defined in each one.

The first one was like this snap bang cause I didn’t equate.

The second was like seeing hair rise on your arms before lightning arrives

The third was cardiac arrest.

I don’t cry anymore, but I hurt.   The bowed head was not in sorrow… but in respect.

The sentiment was not in the knots…it was in the reality that I’ve spent years tying myself up over things that I have no control over.

The screen tent was worthless…years of rafter life….heat vs. cold is lost in time.  Years earlier rodents had burrowed in and created a micro environment or urine and insulation.

As I unfolded the ancient shelter…I knew it was bound for a landfill.  My attachment more to the memory and not the object….the knot and the not.

Thats it.   The knot..and the not…..live more than normal…live more than midwest boring.

Thanks Billy….

Billy Gene Glency…. yeah… MJ stole the name for the song……like I said…he was a hurried genius