People In Hell Want Icewater
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No one you know has ever said this


February 27, 2006 - 1:05 a.m.

No, no... not a girl.. a car!

The Volkswagen made her name known tonight.

She is.. Callie.

She joins Giselle, the grande dame of the driveway, my 1969 Volvo, and Alice and Annabel, her sisters, the 4-door and stationwagon 1969 Volvos, and Eleanor, my late departed 1982 Saab, as having names.

She's a good girl, and I like her.

I had a very, very difficult weekend, but only because of its last two hours.

I am thinking that it's time to divest myself of my family, at least in terms of what's to become of my father and the memory of my mother.

I am feeling old, and sick, and insecure, and maybe it's time that I talked to my brother and sister and said, "look, whatever happens with the old man, decide with your best judgment, because I can't be part of it. Make me the family historian, but in real time, I don't feel any connection any more. I live a life apart from all of you. It's not a smite against you, and in fact, it's probably a smite against me. An admission of my limitations, and an acknowledgement of my own life choices."

I will die earlier than my brother and sister, and I worry I will die unattended. Alone. Some part of me is scared in a disturbingly visceral way every time I go down my polished-oak basement stairs in wools socks, carrying laundry.

I don't worry that the cats will eat my carcass...

I worry that that will run over my paralyzed body and go outdoors and get killed.

I worry.

My relatives would not understand this.

I think Sarah would.

Maybe I do need what she told me I needed. She said, "you need someone to take care of you."

I am weak and alone after all.


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