Tag: roommate

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My Sister

My sister’s life lies somewhere between inspiration and calamity. She is the bravest person I know. But she also has life skills that lead her to exclaim that her life is “mostly a warning for others”.

My sister makes principled decisions anchored in what will be most meaningful for her and for others. She then lives the hard consequences with courage. She gave up a surefire job after college to work as an unpaid intern at a museum. There she made critical contributions to a new display on race relations. To make ends meet she lived in my aunt’s basement and waited tables. Out of conviction, she then left the comfort of her familiar life to move to a new city where she endured a soul-withering job, but found her soulmate. She recently left a top-tier college for a new post at a small Midwestern school. She believes in their cause and in her ability to make a difference there. She is an inspiration….

….and a warning. Take her recent trip to China. On her very first day in Beijing she became separated from her tour group. Soon hopelessly lost within the labyrinth of the “Forbidden City”, she was obliged to show someone a card that the tour company had given her. Written on the card in Cantonese was something to the effect of: I have lost my tour group. Please call my tour company at…. A panicked guide soon appeared for her. Life Skills – 0.

Next was a boat trip up the Yangtze River. Onboard she shared a cabin with her travelling companion. It had a small balcony off the side of the boat. One evening my sister prepared to go up on deck for dinner. She shut off the cabin lights. She closed and locked the balcony door and the cabin door. Seated alone at her dining table, my sister became increasingly annoyed that her roommate was taking so long to join her. Finally she began to eat on her own. Sometime later her roommate appeared, none too pleased. For quite some time she had been locked out on the balcony. She had since been pounding on the balcony door and yelling for help. She was finally rescued by someone in the adjoining room. Life Skills – 0: Calamity – 1.

Near the end of the trip it came time to buy gifts for the family back home. My sister discovered that to do so in a local Chinese shop, one had to barter. She does not like to barter. So instead, she returned to Philadelphia and went straight to the shops in Chinatown. There she bought all sorts of Chinese knick knacks for our family. No bartering, and we were none the wiser. Besides, she reckoned all the stuff came from the same place anyways. Life Skills – 1.

[If you know others who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, kindly forward them WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier.]

Image found at funnysigns.net

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Grandparents

“At Church. Beer in fridge. Love, Grandma”.  The note was taped to the front door of my grandparent’s house. My college roommate and I had just rolled up after 10 hours on the road in my 1970’s camper van, “Chocolate Thunder”: orange shag carpet inside, tantalizing brown color outside.

Moments after we had let ourselves in to my grandparent’s house they burst through the door and smothered us in hugs and kisses.

I asked grandma how she was doing. “Busier than a fart in a hot skillet”, she replied. She really said that.

Grandpa went to the fridge and returned with cans of Miller Lite. He also brought out the small glass cups: refined people never drink their Miller Lite directly from the can. My roommate stared wide eyed.

Grandma broke out the Wonder Bread and bologna and invited us to make sandwiches. In an effort to be polite, my roommate cut a modest slice of bologna. Without asking, Grandma reached over and manhandled his sandwich. She slapped on a second chunk of bologna the size of Rhode Island and teased, “You polite Canadians and your anemic sandwiches!” My roommate dutifully choked it down, aided by gulps of Miller Lite.

We had just moved into the living room to watch the Cubs game when an old family friend arrived. Out came more Miller Lite and another small glass. He regaled us with stories about his time years before in seminary, where he routinely snuck into the kitchen for a late night snack. Once, when he heard the head priest coming, he was forced to hide under a table for 20 minutes to avoid being caught. He re-enacted the event by crawling under the coffee table in my grandparent’s living room. We all laughed so hard we cried.

My roommate and I retired to the guest room. We had separate little Bert and Ernie beds with knitted bed covers. Above my bed was a crocheted wall hanging of a Sioux warrior. Above his there hung a felt church banner that read “This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.” We turned off the lights.

Through the thin walls we could hear grandma humming the Beer Barrel Polka as she washed up the glasses. Grandpa was listening to his police scanner radio. In the dark my roommate quietly remarked, “My God, I wish I had your grandparents”.