Pages

Monday, April 20, 2015

My Wee Folk

Let me introduce the little people who live deep inside of me. One is the finicky Humdrum, another the fretful Mysery, and third the frisky Trixsay. I have no awareness of any others. Humdrum is a Leprechaun who can be a little difficult at times so I’ll let him have first say. 
Whatever you think, I’m not guarding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  I’m searching for one.  I’m not even sure what one looks like.  Yet, I’ll admit that I’m  driven by ambition. 
I’m not a cobbler by trade.  Instead of traditional shoe-making, I studied to be a chemist, but Jeter became a teacher instead.  As they say, ‘Them that can do; them that can’t teach.' 
I don’t much care what I look like.  Slouching comes from spending hours bent over books. Keeping up appearances wastes too much money and time that I could be spending on more interesting things.  Now Jeter’s husband has hooked her on photography—as if writing weren't bad enough.  Talk about distractions.
 If I have a fault, the others would say I am something of a control freak.  I don’t agree.  I’m just trying to help.
Humdrum has the knack of leading me into brick walls of discrimination mainly due to my sex, but that’s history.  Let me introduce the Banshee next.  Mysery is rather depressing to live with, and I don’t want to end this essay on her sour notes.
Woe be me.  
Jeter can’t ignore me all the time even if she want to. You see, I follow her around keeping tabs on health issues.  As if it wasn't bad enough raising three kids with nose bleeds, broken arms, and asthma, now it’s her own cancers, hypertension, osteoporosis, osteoarthritis, rheumatoid arthritis, and fibromyalgia.  I watch for flares and infections that are becoming more common as she struggles to find a balance between an under-active immune system created by drugs and a naturally over-active one.  She walks a chemical high-wire.
Enough said.  Where she sees woe, I see challenge.  Because of Mysery, Humdrum is applying his workaholic personality to seeing that I eat a healthy diet and exercise regularly.  It’s a team effort.
Let’s meet the third member on my interior trio, a Deenyshee who sees magic on the other side of my Looking Glasses.  I’ll let Trixsay explain.
They say I’m a fallen angel.  I’m not good enough to be saved or bad enough to be lost. Instead I’m one of the gods of the earth.  If I am, so is everyone else, little people and big ones.
I’m a poet and writer inspiring this attempt at creative nonfiction.  I’m driven by fun and curiosity, and I dream of turning photographs into photo-art and writing a blog.  
They say I’m capricious.  The problem is just that I have to depend upon Humdrum to learn how to give form to my creations.  He has a patience I can’t seem to find.   But I have to watch him.  He likes to take things over, and his writing smells like a spoiled fish. He is a decent editor.  Where do you think words like capricious come from?  I can just image what his photo-art might look like.  Oh well, what choice do I have.  We’re all stuck to this flypaper.
Flypaper?  There will be no ice cream for you tonight.

A version of My Wee Folk appeared in The Polk Street Review, Vol. 4, 2014


Western Washington University, Bellingham, WA



No comments:

Post a Comment