I love my sister. She
is a wonderful person. That is not to
say that she doesn’t have her faults (who doesn’t?), but hers are the faults of
one who wants to make you love her and be comfortable with her and have an good
time… I find it hard to judge a person like that.
She likes to play games (cards and scrabble and ???) but
after years of living with a person who loathes games I have lost the capacity
for them. I try. I fail.
I am turned into a Teutonic worker bee.
I have no love except that borne of labor and accomplishment. There is no place left in my life for ‘games’. For example today: I spent the day working on the cable
attachments for the controls of the auger of my snow blower. I fashioned a new cable and the connections
and then, when it didn’t work properly, I took the damnable machine apart and
did it again. It works now and I feel
the full thrust of my accomplishment. I
am tired and (having taken a drought of bourbon) fulfilled to the degree that a
‘worker bee’ may feel fulfillment. Gone
are the days of browning on the beach.
Of puttering on the golf course.
Of casually riding to an unknown destination on my motor bike.
Would that there were a touch of my sister (with respect to
the ‘games’) in my wife. That she might enjoy
a game of gin/rummy or climb on my motor bike and go with me for a ride to
nowhere. To stop in a way-side whiskey
bar for a beer on a hot day, if we happened to pass one while we were hot and
tired and in need of refreshment. That will
never happen. But what might happen is my
sister might convince us, eventually, to take a real vacation. She might persuade us to fly to some
never-before-considered-destination where we have no pragmatic connection and
have no excuse but to relax and play.
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