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PLEASE NOTE: The Reality TV World Message Boards are filled with desperate
attention-seekers pretending to be one big happy PG/PG13-rated family. Don't
be fooled. Trying to get everyone to agree with you is like herding cats,
but intolerance for other viewpoints is NOT welcome and respect for other
posters IS required at all times. Jump in and play, and you'll soon find out
how easy it is to fit in, but save your drama for your mama. All members are
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complete guidelines.
As entertainment critic Roger
Ebert once said, "If you disagree with something I write, tell me so, argue
with me, correct me--but don't tell me to shut up. That's not the American way."
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"SSC3 (NF) Paperclip Money and Lawnchair Spaceships"
Mon Cherie 1811 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Herbal Healing Drugs Endorser"
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08-08-03, 01:55 AM (EST)
 
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"SSC3 (NF) Paperclip Money and Lawnchair Spaceships" |
Paperclip Money and Lawnchair Spaceships I used to hate going to my maternal grandparents' house when I was little. They kept their TV channel on PTL and didn't have a lot of junk food around the house. I preferred to spend time with my paternal grandmother, who let me watch soaps and eat as many chips and candy bars as I wanted. Looking back, though, the absence of TV and junk food were replaced with things that fed my imagination. The calculator and items in my grandfather's desk turned into my general store, where my grandpa would buy paperweights and pencils from me with paperclips. The lawn chairs in the back yard became a replica of the Millennium Falcon for me and my cousins. The tree in the front yard was a castle tower. After an exhilarating and adventurous climb to the top, we could see the whole world. Most important, though, was the spare bedroom which held the books that would take me to other places no television show could. My grandfather died when I was 21. He was a quiet man, never attracted much attention from anyone except those who were close to him: I thought he was boring. At his funeral, though, I saw a different picture of who my grandfather was. Several people who went to church with my grandfather requested to speak at his funeral. They spoke of a man who, even in his old age, would come to their houses and tend to their lawns when they were sick. A man who would leave eggplant and peppers from his garden on their front porch, as well as my grandmother's rich poundcake. My grandmother would make poundcake whenever she felt sad, or if someone else was feeling bad. That was her anti-depressant. I recalled the days I would come home from school and find fresh vegetables, poundcake, and yellow roses in a vase, my mom's favorite. No note; we knew who they came from. I sat back in my pew, holding my father's hand, and listened to people one by one talk about how the little things my grandfather did humbly affected them, and how he was the type of person they aspired to be like. I looked at my father during the funeral, tears streaming down his cheeks. I recalled that my father's dad died when he was young, before he married my mom, and that my mom's father became my dad's father figure. My brother and father went to the nursing home to pack up my grandfather's belongings after he died. My father, a big, hulking and somewhat intimidating man, broke down and sat on the bed, weeping. He had lost a father once again.
My grandfather's yard was the most beautiful in his neighborhood. He used to work as a landscaper for the rich and famous in Palm Beach. He had a vegetable garden in the back yard, where he grew his famous eggplant and peppers, which he made vinegar and jellies from. He grew nasturtiums, which he taught me were edible if you sprinkled a little salt on them. The front yard was the best, though. The porch was bordered with velvety pansies and manicured evergreen bushes. The trellis was covered with rose vines, roses that were rich in color and scented the porch with their softly intoxicating aromas. My brother and his family moved into my grandparents' house after my grandfather died. It was quite a shock to walk into the house and find the greens and yellows of the furniture and walls replaced with deep blues and mauve. My brother had no time to tend to the yard; it soon became overgrown with weeds, and the tree in the front yard was cut down. The pepper bush lasted a few months, but soon gave up the ghost due to neglect. The only things that live to tell of my grandfather's gift of gardening are the rose vines, which still grow and twine around the trellis.
 Another Fantabulous IceCat Creation
"What the hell, go and put all your eggs in one basket."
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SaphireLady 2491 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Seventeen Magazine Model"
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08-12-03, 06:01 AM (EST)
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6. "RE: SSC3 (NF) Paperclip Money and Lawnchair Spaceships" |
Wonderful. Just wonderful. A moving tribute to a man who you loved and even in his death, taught you something about life and living. What more could anyone want out of their life then to know they have taught a new generation about love and the important things of life, the giving of ones self.
"Do you know, I always thought unicorns were fabulous monsters, too? I never saw one alive before!" "Well, now that we have seen each other," said the unicorn, "if you'll believe in me, I'll believe in you." Lewis Carroll; Through the Looking Glass
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Lisapooh 12661 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"
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08-19-03, 12:23 PM (EST)
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7. "RE: SSC3 (NF) Paperclip Money and Lawnchair Spaceships" |
Mon, I think this is great! A wonderful tribute to your grandfather's memory. You should give this to your mom as a gift - because that is what this is. A gift<.[P>I'm so proud of you for finally posting your writing - you shouldn't hesitate to keep at it because you've got a lot to say sweetoe!
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