Birthday of the Big Bad Dad

Monday, February 7, 2005


Another week had come, removing the old, which had passed remarkably fast. And yet to Collette, even her final exam had seemed to take place months before. Winters were times of fast and slow paces, mixed, which confused one’s sense of time.


Sunday had been Super Bowl Sunday, which was never a real pastime of Collette’s. However, that year, she watched the game from nearly start to finish, without leaving her seat. No, it was not that she cared greatly about either the Patriots or the Eagles. It was more that the apartment down in the city where she and OLeif had been invited, boasted the presence of a rowdy couple, snuggling and giggling on the couch, much beer, and a foreign exchange student from France (which really did not contribute to the reason that she kept her eyes glued to the television).


Everyone was pretty much nice there, three of them being old friends. The good part was that Violet was there, and they were able to catch up again aside from the letters over the past five months. It was good to see her once more.


But before the party, during the afternoon, it had been peaceful and relaxing at home, aside from the usual comedy routine between Rose and Linnea, involving who could top one another in name-calling. That time, it involved poetry.


Rose sat at the counter, her feet propped up across it, chanting:


I see stars, I see Mars, I see underwear wrinkles in Linnea’s underwear.”


She took a drink before beginning her next masterpiece.


Roses are red, violets are blue, you have a nose and it looks like a two… like a stew.”


Linnea soon retorted back with some similar creation, lost in the uproar of Francis running through the kitchen with an air machine gun.


Bam bam bam! Shwoo shwoo! Thewb thewb thewb thewb thewb! Choooooooooo!”


Rose continued through the raid, her voice rising above the machine gun:


Violets are blue, roses are pink, you have a nose, and it smells like a sink!”


She thought this one was quite clever, and sat there smugly, holding her soda in satisfaction.


Linnea wrinkled her nose in mock-disgust and decided to top Rose’s last piece:


Roses are red, violets are blue, Rose is a brat, and she will go ‘moo!’”


Suddenly, she realized the genius of her improved poem, and a smile spread across her face as she ran off saying:


Oh, I’ve gotta tell this one to Mom!”


Rose called after her, “Roses are purple, violets are green, you are a brat and you will be mean… green…”


It lacked the luster of Linnea’s last performance, and she knew it, so she changed her tune, and yelled after her again:


Roses are aqua, violets are… pruice… You should go… drink apple juice!”


OLeif shook his head in laughter, seated at the dining room table, and called to Collette in the kitchen:


Collette, they seriously need poetry class or something.”


Meanwhile, it was time for Dad to open his presents over the two quarts of thick chocolate and vanilla gelato from Mom. He received the Celtic CDs, Josephus from Mom, and a card and small paper kite from Linnea, which was signed “Adelaide and Linnea”.


No one else would sign it,” she sighed.


Everyone laughed, as no one else had even known about the card in time to sign it.


The Celtic CDs included “Scottish Moors”, as the old copy from years ago had been sat on and smashed by Carrie, who had a habit of doing so to CDs. As Francis said, it was no longer “Scottish Moors”, but “Scottish S’mores”.


And then there was the certificate for Dad’s skydiving in the summer, which he thought was rather humorous. Then there was a pirate tin of cookies, and chocolate covered raisins from Trader Joe’s. And for the grand finale, Carrie-Bri handed him a sturdy black satchel.


Well, I know what this is,” Dad smiled. But as he opened it, he shook his head and still couldn’t quite believe it. “Carrie, are you sure you really got a gas mask?”


Yup, we have got to be prepared for nuclear fallout,” Carrie watched him pull out the mask.


As Dad tried it on for size, she continued:


If Russia and America went to war with nuclear weapons, Russia would be able to save up to sixty percent of its population. America would be able to save maybe ten percent.”


Dad pulled the mask tight on his head with the rubber straps, although it looked a little funny without the filter in the front, as Carrie noted. They all laughed at the sight. There was also a nuclear suit, able to protect the skin for several hours, gloves, and boots, as well as a filter in a box, and a bottle of (potassium iodine?) with a shelf life of ten years.


And I still have the earthquake kit coming, Dad,” she noted. “There was one I was going to get you with a parachute, so you could jump from your building at work, but that cost a thousand dollars, so sorry.”


I guess we’ll just hope we have nuclear fallout instead of an earthquake then,” Mom laughed.


Seriously, guys, it’s always good to be prepared,” Carrie insisted.


Well, I’ll keep this in my car,” Dad said, after thanking Carrie for her generous gift. “But I don’t think I’ll bring it to the office with me.”


They laughed at the thought of Dad bringing a gas mask to work every morning, and having to explain to his work “buddies”.


Don’t worry, guys,” Carried announced, “you’re all getting one for your birthday this year.”


Well thanks for ruining the surprise,” OLeif chuckled.


Comic as it seemed, it was true – being prepared for even such a great disaster was better than laughing it off while a cloud loomed on the horizon. Perhaps the volcano wasn’t simmering at the time, but nevertheless, even Noah was laughed off the Earth, until all hell broke loose.


And soon lunch was cleared, while Collette skimmed through a Smithsonian Travel brochure, waiting for everyone else to get ready to go. There were several new trip options sounding rather interesting, including: San Francisco during Chinese New Year, “Spies and Spycraft” in Washington D.C., Chaco Canyon New Mexico, Antiques and Fine Dining in the Litchfield Hills of Connecticut, the International Bead Exposition, the Alberquerque International Balloon Race, the Santa Fe Opera House, and the “Battle of Little Bighorn”.


Finally, they were ready to leave for the last few hours of the bag sale at the Scholar Shop’s warehouse down in the city. Mom and Dad were happy to stay home and take a Sunday afternoon nap while Francis and Linnea constructed Lego creations. And so the rest barreled downtown in the Civic, while Rose and Carrie argued over little nothings from spell to spell.


The Scholar Shop apparently attracted an abnormal, artistic crowd. Surely, half the costumes on the racks were twisted creations of fashion, however, Joe seemed to hit the jack pot. He was thrilled to find several tees, one labeled “Jamaican me crazy!”, and another depicting a Brazilian tree club of sorts.


Upon displaying the great finds to Mom after retuning home, Carrie whipped the third tee out of the bag, prefacing its obnoxious flavor with:


And then Joe insisted on getting this monstrosity.“


Oversized — bright red — with a Christmas tree cactus complete with 1940’s Christmas bulbs emblazoned on the front. Quite ridiculous.


Then there was a rather normal white and navy striped collared shirt and a burgundy paisley piece, miserably outdated. But OLeif had stumbled across two very nice sports jackets for Joe, one being worth a good five hundred dollars.


However, upon walking out of the Scholar Shop, Carrie and Collette both sported soft cozy uggs (still feeling a little Australian from the weekend), and Rose was in flat traction-less white shoes. The heavy rains from earlier during church had left the pavement more than a fraction slippery. And as Rose ran ahead, being chased by OLeif the Refrigerator, she ground herself to a halt, lost her footing ever so slightly, and sat down hard on her bum. It had been such a comic fall, that she appeared to have suddenly decided to sit down out of the blue, instead of having actually slipped.


Upon standing up, laughing red in the face, her backside was quite black from the parking lot and her nice pastel blue green-striped sweater and jeans were no longer acceptable for the youth group Super Bowl party.


At home, Carrie emptied the contents of her paper brown bag, which contained the bulk of several ridiculous creations she and Collette and Rose had discovered and loaded into the bulging bag. How such bits of craziness could actually have ever been sold in the first place, was mind-boggling.


There was a black velvet tunic cloak and a deep blue velvet dress with long sleeves and gold detailing on the cuffs which would do nicely for a young gentleman of the court. There was also a monster dress of green chiffon and velvet. They had not realized what a whopper it was at the time. Collette had spotted it in the plus-size section and loaded it into the bag while Carrie held it open. As Carrie pulled it out back at home to show Mom and Dad, she started laughing.


You should have seen it — this big black lady comes over to Collette while she’s putting this thing in the bag. And she says, ‘Honey, you ain’t a plus, is you?’ And Collette’s like, ‘No, we’re just getting it for something else.’ And the lady’s like, ‘That’s what I thought. You just downright small.’”


They laughed. It was a buffalo-sized dress, and Carrie soon cut off the top and wrapped the skirt bit around her waist, bustling that extra yard and a half or so into an acceptable train, which would work well for a lady of the court.


Meanwhile, there was a nicer metallic gold sweater that might have been popular in the 90’s. Carrie shook it out and placed it on Joe, as Collette folded down the turtleneck several times. Then Carrie pulled out a short dress of deep navy with appliquéd patches of frayed scallops in navy and gold with printed gold clovers. Joe reluctantly but good-naturedly pulled it on over the sweater, screaming like a girl when he was first ordered to put it on. Then the girls pinched and pinned and snipped at it, removing the bow in the back and the scallops at the hem, pulling the skirt bit straight. Carrie forced him to slip on her old black leggings beneath, and they cut the sleeves up higher. The resulting masterpiece resembled the good beginnings of a male Renaissance tunic. Of course Joe was mortified at the thought of wearing a dress, yet wasn’t ashamed enough not to do a little dance every now and then in his new skirt, waltzing with himself around the room.


Carrie, get that thing off of him,” Dad commanded from the reclining chair as he and Mom tried to watch “Funny Lady”.


He wore the sort of face that was saying, “Good grief, what have they done to my son?”


But in the end, Joe quickly switched back into his more manly attire and readied himself for the youth group gathering. He didn’t forget to mention strongly that his buddies must never hear of him wearing a dress.


And then that fine gray Monday morning, Collette came across something speaking right to her – the thoughts that came across her mind many times. Spurgeon spoke of it long ago:


There are more eyes fixed on man than he wots of: he sees not as he is seen. He thinks himself obscure and unobserved, but let him remember that a cloud on witnesses hold him in full survey. Wherever he is, at every instant, there are beings whose attention is riveted by his doings, and whose gaze is constantly fixed by his actions. Within this Hall, I doubt not, there are myriads of spirits unseen to us—spirits good and spirits evil; upon us to-night the eyes of angels rest: attentively those perfect spirits regard our order; they hear our songs; they observe our prayers; it may be they fly to heaven to convey to their companions news of any sinners who are born of God, for there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth. Millions of spiritual creatures walk this earth, both when we wake and when we sleep; midnight is peopled with shadows unseen, and daylight hath its spirits too. The prince of the power of the air, attended by his squadron of evil spirits, flits through the ether oft; evil spirits watch our halting every instant, while good spirits, battling for the salvation of God’s elect, keep us in all our ways and watch over our feet, lest at any time we dash them against a stone. Hosts of invisible beings attend on every one of us at different periods of our lives. We must remember, also, that not only do the spirits of angels, elect or fallen, look on us, but “the spirits of the just made perfect” continually observe our conversation. We are taught by the Apostle that the noble army of martyrs, and the glorious company of confessors, are “witnesses” of our race to heaven, for he says, “seeing, then, that we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin which doth so easily beset us.” From yon blue heaven the eyes of the glorified look down on us; there the children of God are sitting on their thrones, observing whether we manfully uphold the banner around which they fought; they behold our valour, or they detect our cowardice; and they are intent to witness our valiant deeds of noble daring, or our ignominious retreat in the day of battle.

Remember that, ye sons of men, ye are not unregarded; ye do not pass through this world in unseen obscurity. In darkest shades of night eyes glare on you through the gloom. In the brightness of the day angels are spectators of your labours. From heaven there look down upon you spirits who see all that finite beings are capable of beholding. But if we think that thought worth treasuring up, there is one which sums up that and drowns it, even as a drop is lost in the ocean; it is the thought, “Thou God seest me.” It is nought that angels see me, it is nought that devils watch me, it is nought that the glorified spirits observe me, compared with the overwhelming truth, that thou God at all times seest me.”


              • Omniscience” – Vol. 2 delivered 06.15.1856


It cut right to her as she thought of all her past family gone, Grandpa Combs, Great-Grandma Combs and Great-Grandma Jewel, Great Aunt Ona, Great Aunt Martha, Great Grandma Norse, even Edred, and the ancient pirate… how strange to think that hopefully they all were watching far somewhere in a place she could not think.


She thought the age-old thought of how there were so many people who believed, perhaps even unconsciously, that life was meant to be lived for being merry and happy and prosperous, to lend a helping hand when needed, to dedicate their lives to humanity in one form or another, and love and learn. Once life left, they would fade away into nothingness, a black emptiness, a void… or they would slip into eternal happiness to a heaven of their own creation. It was so very sad, that Collette would often despair herself in the very thought, for them.


And then there were those, who, even though they were Christians, believed that life should be gotten through quickly after helping to convert as many dark souls as possible, believing that the beauty of fun of life were unnecessary and only for the rest of the world who were hopelessly lost, that whatever good things to be found in life, were fading quickly, and needn’t be bothered with. That was almost as sad to Collette, for if nothing on Earth was worthwhile, how could one continue life at all? There would hardly be a point to it.

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Jamie Larson
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