Monday, April 10, 2006

A Tiger-ette: Property "rights"

I spent quality time with The Tiger today. It's been a while. Ever since he made that early cross from boyhood to man last fall, our paths don't cross too frequently.

Nothing significant happened that I know of. We went out in his family's van, the brown-n-tan (an old trustworthy friend) to the city recycling center to pick up a load of mulch for our gardens.

I begin planting Wednesday, or maybe Tuesday night. This is the 4th year and every year The Tiger and I have what I jokingly refer to as "the garden wars". I'll never forget the Garden Wars Episode I (2003): The Phantom Jackass. It was the first time ever for Agent Wife and I to garden so we didn't know what the hell we were doing. Our garden was obviously such a "white guy/this is how the internet says to plant a garden" type of fare. We had the most pitiful miniscule crop that I somehow killed off by the 4th of July. Meanwhile The Tiger, at age 13, haphazardly tossed some seeds over his shoulder on some mangy dirt. And...maybe it might rain on them (while I was watering the crap out of mine). And in like 6 weeks The Tiger has this lush, 10 foot tall garden of eden. There was probably a naked woman in there too. My garden had nothing lush and naked.

Well, by last year I was experienced and The Tiger's teenage induced laziness caught up with him. So last year I kicked his garden's butt all over the town. All that to say...I think he's serious this year. He wants revenge.

But in the end, it's all good fun. We always share produce with each other.

One very godly observation: I screwed up the back door of their van on accident. I was showing The Tiger how every year I back up into the 2 story mountain of mulch by opening the back door, slamming it into reverse, then flooring it into the mulch with a big slam halt. He loves stuff like that.

Well, like a gigantic idiot, I hit the angle of the mulch mountain wrong and bend the back door way the hell back, thus screwing it up. It not only left a big dent, but it wouldn't close properly. We got it to work somehow.

Here's the cool observation of middle class versus poverty culture: we get home and I offer to buy a different back door if we could find one at a junkyard (it's an old van). All I had was $10 in my pocket and I gave it to The Tiger to give to his step dad Manuel. Whatever the door cost, I'd pay the rest when they went to buy it.

Later tonight I see Manuel who was laughing at our van mishap. He refused the offer and gave me back the $10. He said it was no big deal. "A work truck" he said in broken English, laughing.

And if that had been owned by a middle class family you know they be wanting my insurance info, home number, head on a platter, etc.

Thank you CEO.


Anonymous said...

I remember being able to say "forget about it" to a very worried girl in a restaurant. It felt good. I have also experienced being on the other side of that grace (what a relief. Years later when by brother owned my old car, someone--who was parked beside my brother, accused him of hitting their car because they saw damage that was on his. Crazy world. It is better living by grace. Lil' sis

Mark said...

When and if you ever get to the point where your garden has lush and naked things living inside, give me a call. It might be my wife.

Jason & Nicole said...

I remember when I was a "poor" college student. While in traffic jam in the megachurch parking lot my best friend accidently backed his '95 Integra into the '77 two door rust colored Volvo my parents loaned me. I was nervous about how my "middle-class" dad would react. Praise God, he forgave my friend easily! I was so proud that my family could forgive! The huge dent in the side of the car was like a status symbol of my family's level of forgiveness.

Sadly, in 1998 the Volvo (which was known by some as "CHK Magnet") went on to be with Jesus.