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melindaedison@hotmail.com
Copyright 2002 by Melinda Edison
My brother is acting like “Happy Man of the Century.” Yes, he is in love with a marvelous woman. And yes, I like her very much. But he does have a new object of affection, not another woman, it is a get-away house.
He took me up to see it two days ago. I never saw a 6’ 3” man bounce around so much! He was beyond excitable.
It is a converted schoolhouse on thirty acres of prime fertile Wisconsin soil.
You come round a huge curve and there it is, a red brick building with a circle drive. I forgot what year he said it was built in, but it is huge for a schoolhouse, not like the little ones on “House on the Prairie.” A lot of kids from neighboring farms must have attended this school at one time. He likes it that “his” house was once a center of books and science experiments and goofing off at recess.
The foyer, well I think this would have been the cloakroom, or so the realtor advises us, is a sunlight cubicle of a room. I would put a Brancusi sculpture in there. My brother will go for a concert poster, most likely that paid-through-the-nose Jim Morrison graphic.
The kitchen is bright and open; black marble counters, an island, lots of pecan cabinets, and workspace. He is giving me the menu for his first meal here…some new chicken thing he learned. It requires a cast-iron skillet and one-hour sitting time to cook while he prepares the broccoli and cauliflower au gratin and hash browns. I can just see us clinking our glasses of Turning Leaf Zinfandel together. Oh, I’m hungry!
The kitchen opens to a dining room, then to a spacious living room. Light is swirling exotic patterns on the hardwood floor. I like it very much. He tells me about all of the new furniture he is going to buying to style out the place. It looks beautiful.
Three bedrooms, two baths. He wants to buy his girl one of those glorious four-poster beds. She told me he likes it every night no matter where they are. I don’t think I am supposed to know that.
French doors from the living room lead out to a huge party-hardy deck, and thirty acres of land spread out in front of you. There is a huge Indian burial ground over to the east. Wait, my brother tells me that it is a Wisconsin mound, a type of septic system that is build on top of the ground rather than dug down into it. It looks exactly like the burial mounds down at the lake, nicely aesthetic.
“I’m going to get Sammie two sheep. He can stand up on that mound and tend to them all day running them from one grazing area to another. My sheepdog will finally be able to do what he was bred to do. I’ll put up a sheep barn.”
I am laughing so hard I think I am going to die. He is even making it paradise for Sammie!
Our uncle once fancied himself a shepherd and raised sheep for about four years. I remember him bobbing off the tails and the running the shrieking sheep through a dip so they would heal. If you don’t bob them the shit cakes up and they get infections and die. I don’t think my brother remembers that, he is two years younger than me. I won’t fuck with his dream.
There is a pond down at the lower west end of the property. It is full of dormant lily pads this time of year. He wants to build his girl a floating gazebo. Wow! I almost can’t breathe.
On the way back to his lake house, my brother is detailing the price. He must get a deal. “If the owner will drop twenty-five, I’ll buy it tomorrow.” His girl meets us at the door. J goes off to walk Sammie.
“You must be so excited.” I said to her.
“We discussed this before he started looking. It doesn’t have the things we agreed upon. It is too remote.”
Oh no.
Fingers crossed. Fingers crossed. Fingers crossed. I hope he gets to have it. It even comes with a big bell. Good God I can hear him ringing it now.
Please.
