The Blessing of Summer Vacation
Thursday, August 14th, 2003
The Blessing of Summer Vacation
A Billy Entry
Never let it be said that times are hard during the summer. Because that's as far from the truth as you can get. But it can be said that they are quite slow. Which says something when you live in Lauderville.
Sometimes I wish for the big cities that I left behind. And that was Scotland! Glasgow is not L.A. or New York. Not by a long shot. But it is also not Lauderville.
When I first found out I had inherited this house from Aunt Hyacinth, my initial reaction was "Who?" But digging back into the recesses of my mind to when I was a boy of no more than eight brings about a vivid picture of her. My father's aunt, a massive, smiling woman who looked like she could break a small dog in two (and probably would have if one bothered her enough - cat person, she was). And she had adored me. Called me her "little Scottish laddie" for the entire week she stayed with us. Probably the first America-dweller I actually met. And for a long time I thought that was why she had frightened me so much. But no, it wasn't just me.
I arrived in Lauderville to look at the property, after hearing of her passing and finding out that she wanted her "wee Scottish darling" to have everything (perhaps she didn't realize I was 33 years old by then), and it was then that I knew she hadn't been quite one of the crowd. She wasn't a granny who sewed quilts and made cookies. She was a near recluse, not just physically (her house is somewhat removed from the rest of the population), but mentally. I heard her referred to as "eccentric" at least ten times on my first day in town, and if that's the nicest way people can think to call her batty, then you know she must have been off her rocker. I was a bit frightened that her legacy would be passed to her great nephew, and I suppose in some ways it has (I rarely have visitors, though that makes sense since I still don't know many people), but I haven't been called "crazy old Mr. Boyd" yet, so I'm probably safe. And so nearly a year ago I settled into my new house with my two new cats (she had five, but three of them ran away after her death, no doubt pining away for her in their last weeks in the forest with all the other feral beasts) and I've been here since.
Speaking of the cats, their certainly giving passer-bys a run for their money. My aunt named them well, or perhaps she trained them well after naming them. Mass Destruction (or MD, as I've taken to calling her. If my aunt had to give them horrible violent names, why couldn't they at least have been short?) has taken to waiting in the juniper bushes at the end of the lane for children walking along. BM (Bloody Massacre) chases dogs away from the house. And their little kitten TS (Total Slaughter - I thought I had better keep with the naming tradition, wouldn't do to have a Snuffles now) has been lying in wait and swiping the postman every time he walks to the letterbox. Poor man must be shell-shocked! I'm sure he's not used to attacking cats. Then again, he's new, so he might not be used to much of anything.
I have to be back at school in less than two weeks. Last year's kindergarten teacher says that my upcoming first graders are a bunch of hellions, so I've got to be prepared for anything. It's a large class, too. About 25. Well, large for Lauderville and Towerston. I'll be ready, though.
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