Troubles in the "House"

I could easily have titled this "free ticket to trouble” but out of respect for certain members, I will refrain from doing just that.

My parents have never been people to sit and plot trouble at the expense of others. Well, that is what they would like to think... but we know better.

I guess blackmailing their grownup children has nothing to do with having the time to tell us how they are getting old and close to the day that their bodies will be carried off to the Long Tees. Imagine that! Where did they get that from, we ask? The picture popping into my mind strangely resembles a lively Tuscan villa complete with a plaza, burning candles and shady corners with lots and lots of long trees. I guess the similarity lies in the peaceful picture both images create...

If not for the trees, they are in the midst of a full-blown raging war against the “oh so godless, turkey & filthy” pig farming boozing, apparently bigamist neighbor who himself does seem to live an odd existence. Lucky for them he now decided to go in search of another neighborhood. I expect the hedge between him and my parents will soon be undergoing some sort of exorcism and the spraying of some kind of cleansing, Holy Water.

Over the past couple of weeks, months actually our parents started up a feud with their church. That's right, against their very own herd of sheep, or congregation. The minister apparently did not notify church members that they were going to build a “mothers-room” at exactly the same spot where my parents sit every Sunday... According to my parents the church is an old monument, but I wonder if their plight had more than one edge to it? Have you ever tried shooing a blathering rebellious lamb into a camp? would not even try that, without getting away all bruised and pitiful.

When I phoned them last night, I believed they were held at gunpoint - mom whispered into the phone and finally I realized the deacons had come to them, trying to talk out matters. The next morning the minister followed in their shoes and before my father could pull out yet another long list of grievances; it was decided to call it a day.

The minister admitted that he would have resigned anyway, but as an answer to his prayers was called up by another congregation. There was one thing he and my parents agreed on however: more than mere love, belief or hope will be needed for this small-town church.

I will happily suggest that three long trees be planted at the front gate of this impressive old church: in memory of a rather young & daft minister and two well-rooted residents who never failed to keep their children, neighbours and an old fashioned church on their toes and knees...

Does all parents have this ability to install in their children feelings of inferiority, amusement, incapability of living independently, being ashamed of them sometimes, angry at their ways, frustrated with their stubborn thinking and proud altogether for who they are and what they believe in...

I wonder if we will ever manage to walk in and follow their legacy? I can only guess the answer will be found one day following the little path that leads to their restful long trees...