"It's Been Two Years"
Part Ten
"The Food Court"
Cadence
has never eaten at a ‘food court’.
I
would believe that by now... my flirtation with old medicine spoons and their
occurrence (discovery?) (by my watchful eye upon the drawers I, as antiquarian
picker, ‘clean out’ and ‘empty’) has been proven AND that the notion that I
would ...return (“return with”)... a medicine spoon to the ‘an estate’ it ‘came
from’ WITH that spoon in my shirt pocket and I... seated with the heiress of
that spoon in HER shed doorway... thereby ‘prepared’ to ‘engage’ the
...HONOR... of this... ... ... prisoner exchange...:
“Gracious”.
And
do not worry for hardly... I... need to worry that SHE (the heiress) ever
slightly even... “CARES” “about (a) that”. No... she... THEY... ALL... do not ‘care’ and I, under my
antiquarian picker’s belt, have an eternity of “THINGS” “I FOUND” that when
“SHOWN” to a ...principal of an estate and ALL OTHERS of ‘could interest’...
are a quintessential “no go” when it comes to “CARE”.
So
I... have no concerns about ‘being able to keep that’ (whatever object here
being an... old medicine spoon), ET AL... and... politely inform that
this-this... expands EVER OUTWARD... from this specimen of rather pleasant old
New England (sitting in the shed doorway at an old sea captain’s mansion
‘undisturbed’) to ...surpass even YOUR borders for YOU TOO will... do nothing...
for YOU TOO... ‘do not care’ “either”.
Did
I just say that the reader would prefer to ...eat at the food court? I am... suggesting that... and my
actual professional and personal ‘in field’ experience supports that directive
...of this... not a thought... but... a I FEEL:
My
...feel... of this ...rather large old New England specimen discovery status.
Does
that mean that I find it now to be redundant and boring... to I... that I must
record the proof to you that I DID SHOW ...HER... IT... in my professional
‘touch the enemy’; my personal flirt-crazy... my:
Duty
to this tale?
Fortunately
I may box that DRIBBLE up before the curious reader and THEN... lambaste this
reader with more... lowering... of that bar to “MORE” of “WHY?” for EYE***** (I) find a fertile... ‘explore this
further’... JUST ahead of Cadence and I ...and OUR ...brief... chat about ‘the
(old) medicine spoon’ “I FOUND”.
This means I will move briskly ahead with the old spoon query so that WE
may go... further... to the deeper... and darker ...so more wonderful... ‘a
paradise’ of ...the truly true ‘old New England home’. This is NOT a big task but IS a task
that WILL expand one’s “EYE” and the “SEE” of my... ‘exploration and discourse’
‘of these matters’; my “Why?”.
So....
we must clear a little ground about the ‘don’t care’; clear the brush away...
so we then too... may get away
“From
that” (the medicine spoon as a “Why?” object).
“Don’t
care” comes from two ‘understood’ states...; first an “understood”; fabricated
mentally... and then this mental fabrication is... ‘followed’... by ‘an (in
this case estate) owner’. It is
based on ‘value’; the THEIR “VALUE” of any... it. By value I return us to “IT’S VALUABLE” meaning commercial
cash value (Part Six [C]). “THEIR
VALUE” is the... mental fabrication of “HOW VALUABLE” ...THEY... THINK... “IT
IS”. This self fabrication is then
‘followed’ ‘by them’. Notice this
has nothing to do with ...me. It
is a “THEY”. I simply keep my
mouth shut and... let ‘take its course’ ‘go’. THAT... is that...:
MOST who “VALUABLE” are ...upon ...very obvious items. For example, a twenty dollar ‘gold
piece’ “IS VALUABLE”. Backing to
look over the shoulder of that... one discerns that ‘back there’ IS...
“EVERYTHING” that is NOT “valuable” “following” (‘followed’). So... within the vast sea of objects
and their people... THAT is the self-mental-fabricated-NOT-valuable... majority
of all... and all... soooo... I may safely SHOW and ASK about the vast majority
of any and all and ‘I am safe’.
HERE
DONE with the old medicine spoon is a classic of this-that. I remind that I just want to TOUCH
(very slightly) the enemy so ...I... am controlling the ‘just how brief’ this
‘touch and go’ is. I take the
spoon out of my pocket ... following the conversation’s borderline sentence
from Cadence (Part Eight at the very end) that ended her ruffled expressions of
rage at her sister. Holding the
spoon toward her I said:
“Do
you know this spoon?”
“Spoon? No.” she says peering at it from her
seat, then leaning forward.
“It
was in a Victorian stand I bought from you in March: In the drawer.”
“Oh...
well. Stand you say. A table?”
“Victorian. With a drawer .”
“The
one in the barn; the back of the barn.”
“Yes. In that group of stuff.”
“You
took that. I remember.”
“So
this was... the drawer was full.
When I emptied it; this was in the drawer”
“Mother’s
stand?”
“Your
mother’s stand?”
“In
the front room. In everyone’s
way. We moved it out. When she died.”
“Oh. So (holding out the spoon) this was
hers.”
“Oh
yes. Her spoon. She always kept it in the drawer.”
“What
did she do with it?”
“Gave
us girls the medicine.”
“What
medicine?”
“Some
awful old stuff: We hated it. It was that or be spanked”.
“Be
spanked?”
“The
Spanked family she called us. If
we didn’t take our medicine like the Snow family does (so Wasp) then we were
the Spanked family. ‘Has-Been and
your sister Should-Be’... SPANKED she called us.”
I
laughed at this and Cadence grinned.
“Really.” I said.
“Really.”
She said. “That’s what that spoon
was used for”.
“Did
she heat it? It looks like it.”
“Held
it in the candle flame; to melt the sugar: She put the medicine onto sugar. In the spoon.
There's a sugar bowl for that.
Probably out there (in the back of the barn) too. Unless you took that.”
“A
sugar bowl? I don’t think so
but... actually... maybe so.”
“It
was white. We weren’t allowed to
touch it. Ever.”
My
mind was roaring through mental images of ‘the stuff’ ‘I’d bought’. “SUGAR BOWL” it searched. “I HAVE ONE WHITE YES I DO.” I heard
myself say.
“Big...
awful.” Cadence said
“But
White. Big like you say.”
“We
hated that sugar bowl too. The
Spanked sisters. Hated it”.
Now
...THAT’S a STORY. So I was...
ecstatic and... DONE. “GET OUT”
and the spoon... went back in the shirt pocket. That’s the core trick I master-keep: “GET OUT”. The whole thing can turn on... ME so... ‘vamoose’. But... again... ‘now that’s a story’; a
true ‘filling out’ of “WHY?” for
ME.
In
old New England homes.
I ...just... caught that butterfly
NET of ‘almost lost’... the almost... ‘gone forever’. Now it’s mine.
And I just wrote it down.
Who’s at the food court?
“Bark
Mulch?”
***** : YOUR antiquarian, design, art... fine
art... eye.
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