Little Goblins

My mom’s friend, Gloria, was kind enough to think about me a few weeks ago when she was looking for an interim personal assistant. She presented it to me very appealingly; “It’s crap work and you’re way over-qualified, but if you’re interested . . . .” To everyone’s surprise, I decided I was interested.

I never took the time I should have after the MBA to breathe and figure everything out. Maybe I should have done that this summer, but I was shuttling between cities and scrambling to get interviews in New York instead. Honestly, this is the first time in my life that I’ve just said “no” to all of the things I “should be” doing. I probably should be worried that I have shitty health insurance that’s good for practically nothing. Maybe I should be jumping the next plane to New York to charge into my next career. I guess I should be concerned about the open accounts I still have in France that I desperately need to close. I definitely should be anxious about my finances.

To all of this, I say “no!” I am taking a break. I am taking a break for the first time in my life.

And it’s really very nice not to be so worried. I’ve had to do some soul searching since I got back to the States, and I’ve realized that I probably won’t “figure everything out” anytime soon, if ever. And that’s okay. I won’t ever have it all together. My little ducks seem to be happier when they are swimming all over the pond rather than lined up in one neat row. I’m thankful that I’ve managed to confine them to a pond. They could be floating off in all directions over the Atlantic Ocean.

So while I’m here, I’m helping Gloria. She and her husband have a wonderful house on beautiful land, which is even more beautiful in the fall. This house, however, is a creature with a life unto itself. Rarely am I working there alone, and I go there every day.

Richie is usually rummaging around in some crawl space. Twice a week, Andrea spends the day cleaning and talking to herself (so she says), but I always think she’s talking to me. The carpet layers are quiet, and Richie says they don’t do their job well. The carpet cleaner thought I couldn’t be more than 20 (nice guy). The pool patio crew fixes things rather slowly considering their number. The pool tile layers are a husband and wife team. She reads to him while he lays tile. Then, there are the yard people and the UPS man, who comes often. I missed the fireplace man the morning he came.

I sit at the big kitchen table, which is made from a single tree trunk. While I work, the people come and go. A few days, in the late afternoon, I have been at the house all alone, save Nellie the dog, and we become lonely.

Unfortunately, I was sick the day the two water mains broke and shot water 40 feet into the air, sending Richie on a wild goose chase to find the shut-off valve which ended up being at the very end of the ¼ mile-long driveway. A few days ago I asked Richie, “What happened here? What happened to this house that it constantly has a little army of workers attacking it?” He gave me a contractor-like answer about shoddy workmanship, but I wasn’t satisfied. What else was going on here?

This morning I was talking to Mom about it, while we waited for the window washers to finish inside. I said, “You know what I think it is? Do you remember that day we took that picture out at Cheekwood in the bonnets when I was about four? Well, before I was watching a movie that you probably didn’t know I was watching on that little tv we had in the kitchen. You know that movie where the little men drag the lady down the heating vent?”

Mom said, “Oh, yeah, I remember that movie. They were little white men who looked like boogers. I swear it was called The Haunting.”

“I think that’s what’s going on at Gloria’s. There are little men in the vents causing chaos. That movie terrified me.” I still get the chills thinking about that one vivid scene. There I was, a four-year-old dressed in her best batiste dress with the pink ribbons, watching some poor lady get pulled into a heating vent (the very same heating vent we had!) by little white booger men. It was horrifying – completely horrifying.

The fear came rushing back to me. “Well, now I have to know which movie it is. It’s been driving me crazy for too many years. The Haunting? From the 1960’s? No, The Haunting doesn’t say anything about heating vents. Was it the 70s, you think?”

“Well, if Beth was around it would have had to have been the 80s.”

“But it was on tv so it was probably an old movie.”

“All I know is that the woman in it is the same woman who was in that John Wayne movie, Paint Your Wagon.”

“Paint Your Wagon? That’s a ridiculous title.” I typed it into imdb. “Well, Paint Your Wagon is a Clint Eastwood movie.”

“That’s not it then. It’s the one where John Wayne’s character is Rooster Cogburn.”

“That’s also a stupid name. Okay, that movie’s called, um, Rooster Cogburn.” I read the names of the Rooster Cogburn actresses, but none rang a bell with Mom.

“Okay, so read me all of the John Wayne movie titles and I’ll recognize it.”

“Alright. I’m starting in the 50’s.” I really started with the 40s. “Angel and the Badman, The Fighting Kentuckian, Bullfighter and the Lady . . . .” I made sure to do some good movie voices so each title brought a new fit of laughter with it. “Big Jim McClain, Hondo . . . Hondo? Really? Oooh, look! Here’s Hondo and the Apaches!”

At this, the woman washing the windows decided to pipe in. “Y’all are just havin’ a good ole time, aren’t you?” Mom replied that we really knew how to party. Then I looked into my coffee cup and commented, “I’m drunk already.” And the window woman said, “Well, it’s noon somewhere.”

I went back to the John Wayne titles. “Oops, I was reading the wrong list. Hold on. War Wagon?” I thought I stumbled onto something. After all, we had started with “wagon,” but War Wagon didn’t elicit a response. “The Green Berets, Hellfighters, True Grit . . .”

“True Grit! It’s True Grit! Her name’s Kathleen”

“Kathleen . . . Kim Darby?”

“Yes! Kim Darby! Kelly, Kathleen . . . same thing.”

“Well, Kim Darby was in an episode of 'Wagon Train.'”

“I knew she was sitting on a wagon in something. I can see her sitting on the wagon.”

It also turns out that John Wayne’s character is named Rooster Cogburn in both True Grit and, yes, Rooster Cogburn.

“Ugh! I can’t find it. She’s only been in tv stuff.”

After googling “Kim Darby heating vent horror movie,” I discovered that it was indeed a 1973 made-for-tv movie called Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark. Apparently, as indicated by some emotional posts online, I wasn’t the only child scarred by the film.

After I watched that horrific movie, Beth and I posed for this precious portrait. We’re both looking toward a stuffed Kermit the Frog puppet that the photographer held up to make us smile. Incidentally, Beth discovered a few years ago that the photographer still uses that Kermit . . . at weddings.

Anyway, Beth’s clearly watching Kermie thinking “huh, what is that and who is that crazy lady attached to it?” I’m looking at it thinking, “Holy shit! That frog’s gonna jump off that crazy lady’s hand and drag me down the nearest heating vent!” For months, maybe years, after that I wouldn’t go near any of the vents in the house.