Category: All the World’s a Stage

It’s that time again… that year again… Census time…… Even though, not withstanding, nowadays another battle is raging… the long arm of the law can lay manslaughter charges if you willfully invite anyone in your bubble….and your guest gets Covid 19 and dies…so they say..so it is written…

Momma was at her workstation… a simple laptop, on a TV tray, in front of the easy chair in the living room…

Wonder Boy was at his station… since Covid hit, he has taken over the dining room table, with monitors, screens, keyboards, cords, numerous ear phone sets, cell phones (2) and audio boxes  to listen to good vibes as he works…you know the drill…you work from home…have meetings by zoom….don’t leave home unless you have a medical appointment or need essentials…READ: food and prescription drugs… *not recreational) ...oh, and booze….

In to the still, came a heavy handed persistent pounding on the door… like those cop shows, when they are after the bad guys… we opened the door to find a folded self gluing envelope with your own personal on line Access Number to fill the 2021 Census on line… there are two types of Census… the short version and the long…Momma must be registered as a communist combatant some where in ICloud… she always gets the Long Version.

Back in 1812 or thereabouts, Momma’s Great Great Great Grandparents had to list their livestock, maybe how many chickens they had and how many eggs they laid a day…important need to know statistics in order to feed the nation.

Nowadays, the important question is what sex you were born and which sex you now identify with….. as well as ethic background… not a born and bred Canadian but descended from a list of all DNA your ancestors contributed, along the way…. Momma also checked Other…just in case the Scientists are correct and we descended from Monkeys… it’s called covering all the basis.

Momma was so glad there is only two in her household because...imagine…questioning your 15 year old what sex they identified with now… even worse, if a multigenerational family resides at same home…imagine asking your deaf grandparents what sex they identify with now…today…yeah!

Even more obtrusive is asking how much every member of the family makes, how many hours they work…obviously, we will have to put a tracking devise on Wonder Boy to get the most accurate information possible.

Then there is the current value of your home, who pays what and how much did they pay…are you serious…here’s my best guesstimate…deal with it.  We all know all this pertinent information lays in the Dead Files in the iCloud Home of No Return….

Seems like overkill to a small time player like Momma:
They make their living off the Census news… Just give them somethin’… somethin’ they can use…Your G Man lives to see you lose…They love dirty laundry…(Paraphrase Don Henley)

The Coaches are looking bewildered… Can you see that look in their eyes…..Did they ever give your kid…Permission…To use that outrageous   hair dye???

And what’s with that God awful hair style….Poor Coaches….Must drive them just insane…But Thank goodness, I got it in writing….I know they are already there…

Why would they eat so much junk food…. As parents have ya never chastised them… Coach you’re doing such a fine job…. Interference would only add problems…

So Coaches, I’ll make y’all a promise….I won’t blame You…If you don’t blame me….When you have children…I’ll remain silent….As they decide what THEY wanna be…..

So where will you be this weekend…..But the family all know by now….In some Rink, or a Ball Park,  Small Town, Anywhere…Second guessing the Refs and Judges….As they decide who won and who lost….

Far be it for mere parents  to distrust…Their ability to stick to the Guidelines…So how come the kids that break all the rules…Carry home every trophy in site….

Parents can’t let that divide them….We got a lot of years to put in side by side….So let’s talk about fees this season…We’re paying too much, don’t you think….And what do you make of those parents…Who made such fools of themselves…Fund raising is just driving us ‘loco’.…Let me guess, you’re running  the Bingo tonight….

But could any of us still be called sane….Ambition just wearing us thin….Glorious highs then slammed to the ice…Wears out the best human being….

Surely it is a good time to ponder….How realistic are some of our goals…

The sun, she’s going to shine tomorrow…Kid, I’ll love you, no matter, the same….You don’t have to bring home no medal….In the end…It’s all just a game!

Houses…homes…all with a different vibe…but all with the same Call to Arms… Before the first spade hits the dirt, before the basement cement poured, the first brick laid…your home has an innate, unspoken sense…. That what goes on between the walls…Stays within these walls….

Not at all like trees, whose roots reach out, tickle, entwine the trees surrounding them, while branches stretch forth, their leaves touching, softly caressing each other… be it oak, birch, or chestnut … giggling, sharing secrets of what they heard as they efficiently pass on things that were, that are and will be…

Houses…homes…not so much.  Secrets stay within the walls…only spilled out if the Two Footed Owners talk or it is such a grievous vexation (like blood is spilled) so the local constabulary is called to sort out the melee, surround the crime scene with yellow yellow and black tape that innocently flutters in the wind. Law enforcement then gather the evidence, speak for the victims and haul off the perpetrators… (if they can find them).  Otherwise, those squeaky clean, church going next door neighbors are as much of a mystery to you as your own kids are to you…when the hormones kick in…

Of course, if your lot in life is to live in an apartment or a condo, you may hear raised voices, see shady individuals hanging around…giving you a clue…that maybe…just maybe, your neighbors who nod, friendly like, and live in said dwelling may be battling demons…but still, please God, I have a full time job…I have to sleep to survive, let there be peace…at least tonight.

In the suburbs…where the lawns are all green and trimmed, the flowers shout hello to you as you pass by, the homes are all made out of ticky-tacky and all look just the same, it is indeed surprising to know that family with that over-achieving child, who gets straight A’s, makes the Football or Cheerleading Squad, and  is on the way to a full scholarship at a prestigious university (well, according to their parents)….. is actually also a Meth Head…got in with a bad crowd, they claim….makes your own kids still look…although confirmed underachievers (say the teachers, but what do they know?), decidedly more appealing.

Meanwhile, off in the country, where everyone knows everything that happened to everyone for the past five or six generations (or so they think …but they are not judging anyone…uh, right!), there is a different dichotomy.  In between your farmhouse with the pastures of cows, sheep, horses, and that gleaming manor on the hill, overlooking the stream that flows into the river, will be a ramshackle, abandoned homestead, where the youth hold all-night-long binges, much to the chagrin of the landowners who resent ATV’s crushing their crops, cruising their manicured lawns, noisily causing mayhem. Where is that peace that the owners thought the countryside would deliver????

And so inside the walls of the homes that house the Condo/Apartment Dwellers, the Suburbanites, the Farmers, the To-the-Manor-Born, the Belligerent Youth, there are secrets, tension, pain that breed contempt ….yet still, your home is your castle, be it humble, middle class or grand, your touchstone in times of trouble or joy…where you return to in your thoughts  and nightly dreams…For better or worse, it cradles you, keeping secrets close…only known by those who traveled the same road…felt the blows and raised above them..

Who knew, Smart Homes were coming, who knew…locking and unlocking your doors, turning off and on your lights, spying on your nanny or even your children and spouse…

Now, will someone please step up and create the Happy Home App?We’re waiting…..