Ramblings from the Cove...
By Lars Gren
It was one of those crisp early fall days with a light breeze and clear skies. The sun warming us as we walked passing the new dunking doughnut shop on the corner of Lexington Ave—what we refer to as our main street—as if Magnolia could have a main street. By the way not everyone is happy about having that shop move into town. We have never ventured in and would have been happier had a nice tea room opened up there as more than a few have wished for.
Elisabeth cut left at the corner wanting a bit less of a walk while I needed to stretch my legs and so quickened the pace as I headed down to the next corner where the local pizza shop operates. There was a trim young gal—too old to be a girl and too young to be a women—with the cell phone to her ear standing at the corner where Shore Road begins. She would have turned any young man’s head and a few older ones too as they passed by. When I came within ears shot she, in less than an endearing way said, “Well, how about the way you talk to me, when you do?” No sweet tone to that. Anger and hurt feelings were conveyed very well to whoever was on the receiving line.
As I turned down Shore road I wondered who was on the other end of the line—a mother or father—calling in the afternoon—probably not, a sibling, no, if so that would be a confrontation in person. Could it be a bit of young love, a boyfriend or a hoped to be boyfriend in any case a sweet relationship gone sour, at least for now? Was he listening? Thinking to himself, “Well, here she goes again. Now, what is it? It will be ok she’ll get over it and if not There are others to get acquainted with. No big deal.” It was a poignant moment on the walk.
Elisabeth’s parents had a brass plate on the doorpost of their home with the inscription which said in part, “Christ is the head of this home, the silent listener to every conversation the unseen host at every meal.” If the young gal knew that, would her tone and conversation have been different? Was she embarrassed at all when I came by or had there been others who heard bits of it? We do say thinks that we regret but most of those come, “Where nobody knows and no one sees” except the One whose, “Eyes run to and fro---“and we tend to forget that “Nothing is hidden that will not become evident---“So as I blithely continued enjoying the light breeze coming off the water a few of my phrases that would have been best not said came to mind, “Now why in the world would you do something like that? Can’t you see that’s not how it goes? I can’t believe that you did that. I called you three times and you didn’t hear me”? Funny how much easier it is to recall saying such dumb and hurtful things than the grateful or complimentary utterances that mean so much to a loved one.
There was also her second indictment of, “When you do.” The old silent treatment but I had enough thinking just on the first complaint to get me around the shore and back home—a safe harbor. Perhaps I’m the only one with such memories but then again maybe one or two might say, “Oh been there and done that.” There sure is need of sweet grace and mercy in relationships.
On a happier note, well part happy anyway, is the occasion when we pass a black pickup truck parked outside Magnolia’s only “gin mill”—might better be called a “beer mill” by the amount of Budweiser cases that we have seen being wheeled in. There on top of the flat stainless steel tool chest cover spanning the width of the truck body lies the most beautiful square faced black lab we have ever seen. As sleek as can be, he is well formed, lying with his two paws straight out and his head resting between them his soulful eyes staring straight ahead. When we approach him and speak he does not lift his head no voice is heard he may shift his eyes a bit but when we stop in front of him it is as though he looks through us to the door, and then as we pass there is no whimper at our leaving. The only change is during the cold winter when he sits in the cab on the passenger side with his head pointed towards the door no change in position or challenge as we pass only waiting for the door to open and his master to appear. Only once did he come “alive” and that was when his master stood outside having a smoke then he was up and wagging his tail and enjoyed a few strokes by me. If ever there was a silent illustration of devotion it is that black lab and one may learn even from an animal—to keep watch for who knows when the master will come.
And that’s it from the Cove...
God bless y'all,
L and E