Wednesday, September 19, 2018
I am holding a Walmart grocery bag as my daughter picks piss-filled toilet paper out of the toilet with her bare hands. She is slopping piss on me. I smile. This is a life lesson...for both of us I suppose. It is time for her first Hoover Ware Life Lesson. I am reminded of my first life lesson.
My grandfather loved rocks. If you offered him a rock, he took it. My assumption is he hated watering plants so his yard was filled with rocks. I must take a minute to explain rocks as it is more complex than one might imagine. Gravel is a rock for a driveway and large landscapes areas - my grandparents house had five driveways and an acre of landscaping.
River rocks and petrified rocks are decorative - they lined the paths of the driveways. I have no idea no idea why my grandfather had these but can safely assume it was because someone offered him rocks so he took them.
Pea gravel - rocks with no dirt. This is "good gravel" and used to allow water to drain down the road
ABC gravel- rocks with dirt which cause a swamp when it rains
I was four when I learned the difference between Pea gravel and ABC by digging my own shit out of a pile of it. being a young male, my grandfather, a Dust Bowl Okie, looked at me as free labor. There was a huge pile of pea gravel near the main road. He usually used ABC but this gravel was for drainage because I assume my grandmother got tired of driving through a mud swamp when it rained at Casa de Ware. So my grandfather sprung for the good stuff.
I felt a rumbling in my stomach. I didn't have time to get to the house so I went to the backside of the pea gravel, facing the road as cars drove by, and unleashed a dump that could drown a catfish.
Minutes later, my grandfather went to load some gravel and saw my Picasso. He looked at me and said "you are going to pick that up". My mushy ass puckered as I went to get a shovel. There would be no shovel this day- today was a day for a Hoover Ware Life Lesson. My grandfather said "use your hands". The actual poop has hit the proverbial fan. I push my hands 5 inches under the muck and begin to scoop. I'll never forget his words: "That is good gravel. Don 't waste it".
I must have looked horrified as I thrust my hands under the watery turd and scooped it up. My grandfather pointed to the back of his acre and said "throw it in back". I walked that turd, melting through my fingers like a melting pre-rape Bill Cosby puddin' Pop, to the back of the property. I’m not ashamed to say I dry-heaved the entire way - but I didn't throw up. Hell yeah! Ok, it was awful and to this day I have a hard time smearing turds on canvas to make my art. I sacrifice so much for my craft! I never pooped in good gravel again.
Back to my daughter and the piss paper dripping on my forearms - I walked into the bathroom and saw a half roll of TP in the toilet soaked in piss. I knew I couldn't flush it. I started down the hall to get tongs to pick it out and it hit me! Time to teach a life lesson. I ask my daughter how many squares she is supposed to use for a pee. In the cutest voice she replies "four". I walk her to the toilet and ask how many squares she used. She is Hellen Keller silent.
I hold the Walmart bag as she dips her hands in the toilet and fetches the excess toilet paper. There is piss on the floor, my arms, and the bag. I feel pride as I teach her the law of the land. She looks at me and smiles apparently having a great time... not understanding or caring that this is supposed to be miserable for her. As I wash my hands with Borax and clean the floor I silently wonder if I just put myself through a second life lesson for no reason as a three year old girl runs skips behind me singing. I think I made my point with her.
I am holding a Walmart grocery bag as my daughter picks piss-filled toilet paper out of the toilet with her bare hands. She is slopping ...