A Day in the Life of The Clam

Tuesday, May 31, 2005

It was a day set aside for the rather strange side of things, that last day in May. Perhaps it began the night before – OLeif was the one who reminded her while they talked of his schooling.

“You know things aren’t going to be the same forever,” he was saying. “Your family will change and grow and leave and go onto other things. Twenty years from now, it won’t be anything like what it is right now.”

Collette did not like to hear this. She knew it already, but to hear it confirmed was hardly comforting. There were many times when she wished they could all be back in the good old choir-philosophy days. Days when all the kids she knew everywhere were relatively “innocent” in thinking. They could laugh and debate and share life together as good friends and family, enjoying the activities and thoughts and discussions of each season. It hurt in a way to think of the coming years. All those kids were now on their own paths, separating, moving on, starting their own individual lives out in the world, not really caring about what and whom they left behind. And it would not have been so difficult for Collette if she knew she would see them all again in the next world. But she knew they would not all be there, and it was a desperation that came over her to think of it. Those were the times she thought of death and trouble, what was coming, what had passed, and all the terrible things of the world, the sin and rot of it all. She had hope – she knew where her journey took her and she could enjoy the life she lived. But for so many, there was utter hopelessness, blackness, foul and endless dark, a shadow they would never escape, a devil always on their back… and all from their own stubbornness.

But back on the home front, other things were afoot. Grandma had called, fit to be tied with the carelessness of the Florissant Post Office. And Collette played a warm-up round of badminton with Rose and Linnea before math, while Joe detailed the Civic and Carrie-Bri went jewelry shopping with Kitts.

“Look at that bird taking a dirt bath,” Rose pointed to the neighbor’s yard as she fought Linnea for the birdie.

“Rose, birds don’t take dirt baths,” Collette rolled her eyes.

“This one does.” Rose scowled. “It’s rolling around in the mud.”

Meanwhile, she was chasing Linnea around, whacking at her with the badminton.

“Ow!” Linnea yelled, as Rose swiped the racket across her hand.

“Oh, oh, sorry baby!” Rose was suddenly apologetic. “Let me see? Are your fingers OK? OK? OK. They’re working. They’re OK.”

“Rose, you nincompoop,” Collette walked over under the net. “Give her a hug and help her up.”

“I did; what did you think I was doing?” Rose crabbed.

But there were sandwiches inside, and so the game was temporarily forgotten.

Inside, Rose threw potato chips at the dog and annoyed Linnea as usual.

“I’ll knock him out,” Linnea was saying as she picked up a plate from the kitchen table and whacked Joe in the bum, for no apparent reason.

“Rose, your fish are starving,” Mom called from the dining room.

“They’re on a diet,” Rose screeched back from her perch on the bar stool in the kitchen.

“Rose,” Collette said, confounded, “fish don’t go on diets.”

“These fish do,” Rose replied smugly. “They’re fat.”

Meanwhile, the phone rang.

“Get it!”

“You get it!”

“Who is it?”

“Grab the phone!”

“The Tecumsehs.”

“Answer it!”

“Why would they be calling for me?”

“Answer it!”

“Pick it up!”

“Oh… forget it.”

“Speaking of which,” Mom rolled her eyes calmly, “Rose, why don’t you call Lucy Shells and see if you can ride her horse this afternoon.”

“No,” Rose was uncertain, “last time it stepped on my foot… Oooh, look at all the snails in my fish tank!”

Collette was temporarily distracted as she thought about Monday at the bazaar.

“Are we jay-walking or what?” Collette had asked as they waited on the side-walk in front of the stoplight.

“We’ll just send Rose out there first,” Carrie said aloud. “She’s a clam; she wouldn’t feel a thing.”

Collette shook her head and laughed. Back in the dining room over lunch, Mom was lecturing Rose again.

“No one’s going to want to be around you if you’re always being so disgusting.” She was saying.

“I’m not disgusting,” Rose insisted.

“Rose, you burp like a sailor,” Mom scolded her.

“Yeah – a pirate’s life for me – burp!” Joe swung his arm like a scallywag, imitating Rose.

“Either that,” Mom continued, trying not to laugh, “or you’ll have to find a culture where it’s acceptable…”

“Yeah, in Italy…” Rose interrupted.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Yeah, but in Italy…” Rose was determined.

“Rose.”

“But in Italy, it’s a disgrace not to burp after a meal. You’d hurt the cook’s feelings. And in Tibet, they stick out their tongues to say hello.”

“Thanks for the useful information, Rose,” Joe just laughed incredulously and changed the subject. “Here,” he said, brushing Linnea’s hair over her face. “Now your hair looks promiscuous.”

“Joe, you think oranges are promiscuous, celery, everything…” Mom smirked, leaving the room to tend to other things.

Sorry for being rude and disgusting,” Rose said.

“And socially unacceptable,” Mom called from the back room.

“And socially unacceptable,” Rose repeated.

Rose thought about this a moment.

“I’m not socially unacceptable. At the wedding I did good. Except when I tried to do the polka. That didn’t go so well… burp!”

Joe’s face fell into his glass, he was laughing so hard. And once again, chaos reigned. But fifteen minutes later, Collette noticed that Rose was just lying on the floor next to the music box as it played “Lara’s Theme”, calm and serene as a dove.

The calm did not last long, however, as Rose was soon outside chasing Troops and throwing logs (or “stupid sticks” as she called them) at him.

“Look, Collette,” she called, soon losing interest.

She dropped the log on a plant.

“Rose, you can’t just go around crushing plants. Take it off.”

“No, it’s a stupid plant.”

Ah, yes, the wonderful and ever-original Rose.

Inside, Carrie had returned from her shopping excursion, ready for hand-gun lessons with Louis and his dad, which she later decided to put off for another time. Instead, she would have Kitts and Eve over for the evening to watch the many many sets of old plays they had performed and recorded over the years. And from the shopping outing, Carrie sported a trendy new piece of bling – a silver jangling necklace. Also, to Collette’s delight, she pulled out of the bag for Collette – a lovely Bohemian skirt with silver mirror pieces and sequins, and all in black and deep berry colors. Collette had always wanted one.

And then they discussed life and such with Mom and Rose, talking of such and such and this and that.

“I have three very ornery daughters,” Mom had been saying, snickering at all of them.

“Yeah well,” Carrie was saying, “Linnea’s a tough little bad girl too… Oh, sorry, Trooper. I just stepped on your nose.” She plopped herself down on the couch.

“And you’re bad bad,” Rose pointed at Carrie with her foot.

“You’re annoying bad,” Carrie tossed right back to her.

“Bad to duh bone…”

“No,” Carrie insisted. “I’m bad to the bone.”

And then somehow they got around to the subject of being sick, and of Carrie’s last bout with a sick stomach. She had learned of Collette’s strategy to prevent losing her lunch. The last time Collette had lost it, was when she was eight years old. It had been so bad, that she decided never to throw up again. It had worked, at least for the past twelve years. Carrie attempted the same.

Mom began rolling with laughter, recalling the last time Carrie had been woozy.

“And you were just laying on the couch, saying ‘I will not throw up, I will not throw up, I will not throw up.’”

“And then,” Carrie was rocking over in laughter, “it was Mt. Saint Helens!”

Mom was on the floor. “Like Yellowstone all over again.”

“A volcano!” Rose screeched.

“It was like in one of those cartoons, when a fountain comes up out of their mouths,” Carrie was practically in tears, and could barely finish, she was laughing so hard. “And then… And then it all landed back in my face… I tried so hard not to. It just didn’t work.”

Earlier, Collette had noticed the tea stain on the ceiling of the kitchen, from Rose’s and Linnea’s recent tea-party disaster. Linnea had just been demonstrating to Collette their tea-party warm-up exercises.

“Yeah,” she stretched her legs up to the air, while lying on her back. “This was just to warm us up before we made the tea.”

“What in the world would you need to stretch for, before you made tea?”

Collette was curious.

Later, she realized that the tea had been more of a sport than a tea-party. The stain stretched across several feet of the ceiling. Apparently the exercises had gotten slightly out of hand and a tea cup had gone flying.

“Yeah, that was an accident,” Linnea giggled, putting her hands on her hips, surveying the damage.

Meanwhile, Rose had taken a handful of sunflower seeds from the kitchen counter.

“Hey, Collette, watch how far I can spit!”

She began popping seeds out of her mouth across the patio.