MOTHER VISIT 05: DAY 03


Oh, I wasn't touched. I was fascinated. It was as though a veil had been rent. I saw on that ivory face the expression of sombre pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror -- of an intense and hopeless despair. Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge? He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision -- he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath:
"'The horror! The horror!'

Heart Of Darkness - Joseph Conrad


Confession One : Ok, I exaggerate to amuse you. Replace “veil” with “calf-length hose” and “ruthless power” with intense irritation. Other than that, well, Conrad had a point.

We’ve gone to breakfast. We’ve walked around. The Old Woman has met Buddy and his owner at the Dog Park. In fact everyone we met knew me, so “naturally” when some Hollywood Agent Type sat next to her on the bench at the park, she turns to him and says “I’m his mother.” Like I’m a Movie Star. Agent looked at her said “Excuse me, what are you talking about?”

Actually, I exaggerate again. What she actually said to him was “I’m [Childhood Nickname I Haven’t Used in Thirty Years]’s Mother.” A nickname which embodies my life before I left home and makes me physically ill - “Bunko”. To be honest, I might have kept the Nickname Bunko. Bunko Elliott - KIng of the Wild Frontier has a certain je ne sais qois.

Confession Two : my Childhood Nickname was “Chip” until I went to college and left Chip behind (to live only in my Mother’s Questionable Memory). Yet now, a quarter of a century after I’ve discarded the Name, she still uses it.

There have been some Bonuses.

For one I’ve been talking to my Aunt who has called several times to check on the Old Woman’s visit. My family says “Awnt” not “Ant” which is a Southern Thing (my grandmother also said “tomahto”). When I was a child, I stayed with my Aunt and her family and it’s fun to talk to her again. In many ways she is my Surrogate Mother, the one who actually listens to me like I’m an adult. I am, I assume from our conversations, in some way the child outside of her four kids she never had.

My “reunion” with my Aunt is a special side effect, one Betty loves to arrange. A circular effect/coincidence you don’t see but which is revealed when you look down from the airplane and see your path.

There are many questions:

1) Where does “relation” lie? Is it genetic or mental? How so we, as humans, relate?

2) Where does “where we come from” fit in the Big Picture? We act as if it’s a given. Given, I ponder, to whom? If I’m not home to accept the delivery, who is it given to?

3) How do our personal characteristics get carried from generation to generation? Do they at all? I’m no more like my Mother than a random person on the street. Where, in fact, do “I” come from? Who am “I” at all?

Discuss. Attach to your life. Let me know the result. Send me your Prayers. I am so confused, annoyed and despaired, I could use them.



8:39:00 PM    sro home /