Saturday, April 28, 2012

different strokes




My mom sent a New Yorker clipping of an article on couch surfing.  Here’s what happens: you join an organization of couch surfers and you’re given a list of places where you can spend a night on someone’s couch. At no charge.

I tell her that not only had I already read that same piece (with amusement), but, in fact, Ed has been talking of couch surfing, house swapping and all things similar for years now. I've listened to him, but without great enthusiasm. My response to him has been -- There’s no free lunch! You’ll be reading a book and I’ll be left to make idle conversation with the lonely people of this world (by which I mean the hosts: why else would you otherwise put up with random strangers on your couch...). No thank you.

Today, Ed is at it again. He’s showing me another site – campinmygarden.com. The idea is the same, except you don’t stay on a couch, you pitch a tent, with access to bathrooms, sometimes kitchens, always with a beguiling green space for your overnight respite.

Here’s one in Italy! You like Italy! He brings up a link to someone’s beautiful garden, overlooking hills and olive groves. At about $15 per person it’s not exactly free, but nor is it up there with summer room rentals.

Next year maybe, I tell him, figuring that by then I’ll probably be in a wheelchair or otherwise incapacitated and he’ll have to reconsider. “Next year” has always felt, for me, like a long time away.

Ed counters -- When I finish building the writer’s shed, we could reciprocate. Have people stay there if they want to come to Madison, or go kayaking on the lakes.

I see where this is heading. I’m quickly becoming a b&b proprietor, only without the benefits of – well, income, for one thing.

I shake my head and say nothing more. Time is always on my side. Ed doesn’t finish projects quickly. There’s still a dormer of the farmhouse that is pinkish brown instead of Caribbean yellow.


It was a cold Saturday. Ed and I filled cupboards with Woodman’s groceries. He noted that I wasn’t smiling much. He was right.

Even so, I have never known Ed to lay claim on me, my mood, my preoccupations. He has never objected to days like this – when I spend a significant chunk of time trying to ascertain how someone else, not him, but someone else is getting along. If I had to scoot down to help a person from my past, he’d help me figure out how best to do it.


Later in the day, Ed and I sit at the lemon-draped kitchen table and I tell him -- thank you. And, too, for letting me do what I have to do, for letting me write about him, here on Ocean. Ed has had to adjust from being a completely private guy, more so than perhaps anyone else I know, to being part of my story here.

He munches his prepared by me peanut butter sandwich and says – don’t you think these are all small things? What you said, whom you described on Ocean – when we’re dead and gone, will it make anything worse for anyone? No? Then stop fretting and write what you want to write.

Out of eight years of blogging, only three times have I agreed to reword a post upon someone’s request. I did it earlier today. I’m thinking unless I make a gross error or cause someone great harm, I’ll never do that again.


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4 comments:

  1. I thought I noticed that, and then realized why you changed what you changed, seeing what you replaced it with.

    In my unasked-for opinion, what you did, in this one particular instance, is completely understandable and, more importantly, considerate.

    As I continue to walk this same tightrope, I admire your ability, here. I think the way Ed does on this topic, but not everyone does. That's OK.

    Things happen -- illness, accidents, good things, too -- that sometimes upset our routines. The people that love us support us through these times, and keep home waiting for when we can get back to it. I so appreciate you sharing your home with us here on Ocean, and I hope all goes well for you and your extended family.

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  2. My Paul is like that, too. Even thought I include him in my blog, a lot, he always says he wants to remain anonymous. Yet when I show him my blog sometimes, he doesn't say "take it down" so I leave it alone. I was so preoccupied with giving myself a birthday party that I didn't notice you had edited something. But it's your blog and you can do anything you want with it.

    A B&B in Madison? Hmmm. They are a lot of work, a LOT of work as you probably well know. It's a romantic idea but when push comes to shove, a LOT of work and probably more for the woman than the man in the end. Isn't it always the man sitting in the lounge area chatting with the travelers whilst the woman is out in the kitchen whipping up a breakfast fit for a king? Oh yeah...

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  3. I know you have serious things on your mind these days but I did smile at the remark of time being on your side where Ed's ideas are concerned.

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  4. Interesting topic. I consider most comments to be part of a conversation that I join or start, and in all polite conversations, points are made and opinions reversed or altered. Difference in this medium being these are seldom included: "Good point, I agree, and ..." or "sorry, that was dumb." I love the vibe here, and am grateful for an even-handed and good-humored and honest editor.

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I welcome comments, but I will not publish submissions that insult or demean, or that are posted anonymously. I am sorry to lose commenting Ocean friends who are not registered, but I want to encourage readers to submit remarks only if they feel they can stand behind their words. I do not seek a free-for-all here. I like camaraderie far more than conflict.