“Someone interviewed me recently and wanted to know if I saved ideas so that I could be assured of at least one column a week.
“I don’t save anything so that pockets are empty at the end of the week. So is my refrigerator, so is my gas tank, so is my file of ideas. I tried out the best lines on God and come the next week I bargain, whimper, make promises, cower and throw myself on the mercy of the Almighty for just three more columns in exchange for cleaning my oven.
“I don’t get to this point overnight. I come from a family of savers who were sired by poverty, raised in the Depression, worshiped on the altar of self-denial.
“Throughout the years I have seen a fair number of my family who have died leaving candles that have never been lit, appliances that never got out of the box, wines that were saved for something special, and new sofas shrouded in chenille bedspreads. It gets to be a habit; after a while you have dreams that you hide away for the days when you have time, you have nice compliments that you put aside until the right moment, you squirrel away plans to take a trip when all of you can get away, you have old grudges that you are going to settle when you get around to it.
“I had a relative who for years entertained in her basement. I once described her décor as “early hot-water heater.” We sat on glider swings and drank from plastic as we surveyed the room around us: a workbench, outdoor tables, mismatched lamps and stationary pubs. Upstairs was a perfectly beautiful living room…that was misnamed.
“I used to call her and say, “Let’s go for lunch today. We’ll eat something fattening and talk about everyone who isn’t there. She always hesitated and said, “Let’s plan it. We’ll have all week to look forward to it.” Usually by the time it rolled around, one of us couldn’t go.”
-Irma Bombeck
Are you alive?
Comments