Wednesday, August 18, 2004
Baby Bird
By The Erudite Redneck
Baby Bird is cleared for take-off, but I don’t think I’m yet clear on the concept.
You mean this lovely, spirited, smart, sassy chicklet, the Redneck Redheaded Stepchild, who has been the applet of my eye for seven — SHORT — years, is fixin’ to be ... gulp ... gone? Twenty-four hours from right now, we will be, or be on the way, to her home-away-from home at Oklahoma State.
Go Pokes! She already bleeds orange. Between us, Dr. Erudite Redhead and I have four degrees from O-State. The Redheaded Redneck Stepchild already knows the campus well, from taggin’ along with her mama while she was in grad school.
But ...
No more, "giddy up!" which the Baby Bird hates, every morning to get her up for school? No more jockeying for computer time with her, her with her homework and me with my own grad school stuff? No more reminding her so many evenings that supper can come from a can, or at least a freezer, or the icebox, and not always from a take-out joint?
No more jabs from her that it ain’t an icebox, but a RE-FRIG-ER-A-TOR? No more me pouring on my redneck ways and small-town/rural/farm background and world view just to make sure we’ve raised her right? ... )
No more companionship, no more bein’ Mr. Mom when her Erudite Redhead mama is gone on a bidness trip, which she is often?
"I have a Baby Bird to feed and care for" — that reality check has kept this natural rambler sane many, many times when my job had me nailed down here and her mama’s job took her away for days at a time. I once was a Gospel radio announcer in Arkansas, and I once was a dancehall bouncer in Texas — both when I was single. I do tend to go off on tangents on my own.
The nails still have me attached to my desk. The sails in my wife’s life continue to billow, takin’ her from here to ... everywhere but the house, often. (Sorry, through the angst, I’m just grabbin’ for any metaphor that’s handy).
I am fixin’ to be lonesome an awful lot, and I don’t like it one damn bit. But Baby Bird has to fly. It’s not like she’s movin’ to, say, North Carolina (Redheaded Redneck Stepchild Mecca; see NASCAR). But it’s "away," and unlike the summers spent with her biological father in Texas, this has the ring of eventual permanency to it.
Dr. Erudite Redhead is pretty sure she shed her main tears over Christmas, for some reason. She was thinkin’ ahead.
I have a daily deadline mentality. The deadline is nigh for my feelings about seeing the Baby Bird off. No bawlin’ like a calf for me. I’m pretty sure my tears will just leak out a little at a time as usual.
END
Baby Bird is cleared for take-off, but I don’t think I’m yet clear on the concept.
You mean this lovely, spirited, smart, sassy chicklet, the Redneck Redheaded Stepchild, who has been the applet of my eye for seven — SHORT — years, is fixin’ to be ... gulp ... gone? Twenty-four hours from right now, we will be, or be on the way, to her home-away-from home at Oklahoma State.
Go Pokes! She already bleeds orange. Between us, Dr. Erudite Redhead and I have four degrees from O-State. The Redheaded Redneck Stepchild already knows the campus well, from taggin’ along with her mama while she was in grad school.
But ...
No more, "giddy up!" which the Baby Bird hates, every morning to get her up for school? No more jockeying for computer time with her, her with her homework and me with my own grad school stuff? No more reminding her so many evenings that supper can come from a can, or at least a freezer, or the icebox, and not always from a take-out joint?
No more jabs from her that it ain’t an icebox, but a RE-FRIG-ER-A-TOR? No more me pouring on my redneck ways and small-town/rural/farm background and world view just to make sure we’ve raised her right? ... )
No more companionship, no more bein’ Mr. Mom when her Erudite Redhead mama is gone on a bidness trip, which she is often?
"I have a Baby Bird to feed and care for" — that reality check has kept this natural rambler sane many, many times when my job had me nailed down here and her mama’s job took her away for days at a time. I once was a Gospel radio announcer in Arkansas, and I once was a dancehall bouncer in Texas — both when I was single. I do tend to go off on tangents on my own.
The nails still have me attached to my desk. The sails in my wife’s life continue to billow, takin’ her from here to ... everywhere but the house, often. (Sorry, through the angst, I’m just grabbin’ for any metaphor that’s handy).
I am fixin’ to be lonesome an awful lot, and I don’t like it one damn bit. But Baby Bird has to fly. It’s not like she’s movin’ to, say, North Carolina (Redheaded Redneck Stepchild Mecca; see NASCAR). But it’s "away," and unlike the summers spent with her biological father in Texas, this has the ring of eventual permanency to it.
Dr. Erudite Redhead is pretty sure she shed her main tears over Christmas, for some reason. She was thinkin’ ahead.
I have a daily deadline mentality. The deadline is nigh for my feelings about seeing the Baby Bird off. No bawlin’ like a calf for me. I’m pretty sure my tears will just leak out a little at a time as usual.
END
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Buck up, my tenderhearted friend. She won't be there as much as you're used to, but she will be there sometimes. A child that has been loved as much as you and your wife love her will not forget her nest wherever she may fly. And someday she will marry -- catch your breath, it will be a while yet -- and bring home more little fledglings to have underfoot, make noise and poop where they shouldn't. Hmm, I may have taken that metaphor too far. Anyway, I'll be thinking of ya tomorrow.
Hey, I read your article last night. You've done the incredible: Made history interesting even to me. I didn't even know there was a conflict between single and double staters. We are seriously cheated in our high school history classes. They don't tell us about the interesting stuff. For those who don't know, ThePress's article is the cover story of this month's issue of his state's major history journal! Go ThePress!
Hey, I read your article last night. You've done the incredible: Made history interesting even to me. I didn't even know there was a conflict between single and double staters. We are seriously cheated in our high school history classes. They don't tell us about the interesting stuff. For those who don't know, ThePress's article is the cover story of this month's issue of his state's major history journal! Go ThePress!
http://www.laphotos.com/beverly_hills_the_architects_handkerchief.jpg
Here's a link to a hanky for you, friend. I tried to find you the most manly one I could. It is allergy season, after all, and the pollen could cause eye leakage.
Here's a link to a hanky for you, friend. I tried to find you the most manly one I could. It is allergy season, after all, and the pollen could cause eye leakage.
I know I would be choked up, too, if my child were going to OSU...(sorry, babe, couldn't resist that). I'm actually, desperately, trying not to put myself in your shoes. My "baby" will be leaving for college in just four short years and I'm not sure I'll ever be ready for that. He's talked non-stop since he was 11 months old and I can't imagine a house without his chatter. It's funny, we spend all of our time preparing for them to leave the nest, teaching them to be independent and self-sufficient so they can make it on their own, but we don't prepare ourselves for the moment they take flight. I feel for you, really...
My eldest will be a freshman in high school this fall and I can see the (going-away to college) writing on the wall. You just reminded me why I'm not going to like it, not one bit...
So when the tear does shed and leak down your gruffy face, I hope you'll let us feel that with you. We don't mind. We like ya whether you're spittin' snuff, discardin' nasty coffee cups or sharing your heart with us all.
And next time Dr. Erudite Redhead leaves town, gimme a shout. I'll share yoor cee-gar, yoor steak and yoor Dickel. I might even bring something to the party.
And next time Dr. Erudite Redhead leaves town, gimme a shout. I'll share yoor cee-gar, yoor steak and yoor Dickel. I might even bring something to the party.
How's it goin'. I read this stuff at least once a day. It brings a smile to my cheeks and a flutter to my belly, but that might be gas.
And obviously you know me, so I suppose I know Trixie?
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And obviously you know me, so I suppose I know Trixie?
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