all the marbles
On a hot August day in 2005, my sister Marilyn and I were helping our parents sort and pack their belongings to move north. As we worked, we laughed…partly because we loved having an opportunity to hang out for a few days and partly because it kept the mood light in a bittersweet moment.
Because we–and our parents–shared similar social views, and because 2005 was prime-W-time, there were snarky comments (mine) of a political nature and chuckles (theirs) to let me know I had a friendly audience. I think it was my mom who said it was a good/bad thing my brother Gary (R) [make that life-long, equally opinionated, staunch (R)] wasn’t there to defend his party.
Then came the telling moment: cleaning out the television cabinet, I found what you see in the photo above. One trumpeting, worth-something antique elephant…and one poor plastic donkey with a broken leg barely affixed with packing tape. I set the pair on the coffee bar and asked my family members, in my best CNN-announcer voice, if they saw any political symbolism in the tableau. We laughed, again.
Considering the many beautiful and valuable items I might have brought home to Colorado, the fact that these guys made the cut tells me something. I smile every time I look at them. And the fact that the Grandma Lilly Thompson cookie jar between holds Gary’s marble collection, which he said I could have, adds to the ambiance.
For we are an all-American family. Blues/reds/purples. And we find a way to work around the differences.
In the genes?
I’m voting “no.”