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Intentions and best laid plans
May. 13th, 2007 03:48 pmWe ended up having a sort of bonfire eve get together last night, to burn off the remainder of the yard trash pile toward the middle of the property. As I type, everyone is moving wood, etc. to the firepit at the back of the property in preparation for our PNO bonfire tonight. Should be an interesting night, quite a bunch of new folks coming which is always cause for excitement and some alarm. My apologies for running behind, its been a very busy few days getting ready for this event.
I had every intention of writing something about Mother's Day, but then a fond favorite came in the bookstore to change my mind. And so, here is the story of Arthur.
Arthur moved to the US with his wife, some fifty years ago. A Brit by birth, he had lived in Australia before coming to the USA and finds his adult children settled in FL and CO and so feels he cannot return to the UK for the remainder of his years. He is a fascinating man, and we talk for hours about the BBC, our disdain for American news and culture. Today's topic was British movies and I've another dozen on my Blockbuster Queue because of it. I recommended to him the CBC's "Vinyl Cafe"and though darling, I have the better of the bargain there. At some point, I brought out a few fingers of Jamesons in a coffee mug for him. Delighted, his stories quickly became more personal. He's lonely he tells me, which breaks my heart. Alone and widowed on Mother's Day, a few hours in the local bookstore make the day a bit more bearable I hope. He finds Americans (as do I) to be horribly rude and very much too proud of themselves. "In England, one doesn't mind being ordinary. In fact, we're rather proud of our ordinariness" he tells me. Just so. I rarely see him now that I only work Sundays here, but so very grateful of his thoughtfulness in dropping by.
He is the grandfather we all deserved but rarely had. So here's to Arthur, a son of the Motherland in the wilds of the Puget Sound.
I had every intention of writing something about Mother's Day, but then a fond favorite came in the bookstore to change my mind. And so, here is the story of Arthur.
Arthur moved to the US with his wife, some fifty years ago. A Brit by birth, he had lived in Australia before coming to the USA and finds his adult children settled in FL and CO and so feels he cannot return to the UK for the remainder of his years. He is a fascinating man, and we talk for hours about the BBC, our disdain for American news and culture. Today's topic was British movies and I've another dozen on my Blockbuster Queue because of it. I recommended to him the CBC's "Vinyl Cafe"and though darling, I have the better of the bargain there. At some point, I brought out a few fingers of Jamesons in a coffee mug for him. Delighted, his stories quickly became more personal. He's lonely he tells me, which breaks my heart. Alone and widowed on Mother's Day, a few hours in the local bookstore make the day a bit more bearable I hope. He finds Americans (as do I) to be horribly rude and very much too proud of themselves. "In England, one doesn't mind being ordinary. In fact, we're rather proud of our ordinariness" he tells me. Just so. I rarely see him now that I only work Sundays here, but so very grateful of his thoughtfulness in dropping by.
He is the grandfather we all deserved but rarely had. So here's to Arthur, a son of the Motherland in the wilds of the Puget Sound.
