After spending an evening at Uncle Bubba's with he and McFisher swapping stories, one simple yarn lead to one of Uncle Bubba's theories that McFisher insisted that I add here. I'll tell you all about it as Uncle Bubba had put it across to us. Uncle Bubba was busily tying up loose ends around the house as Sweet Pea packed for an over night trip. He grabbed the bags and they looked around the house one last time before walking out and locking the door behind them. They were going to stay at a bed & breakfast, which neither one had ever done. It was a matter of convenience as it was close to an event that they would be attending the next day and it was less expensive than the hotels in the area. After a scenic drive through the country along pastoral byways they pulled up in front of the bed & breakfast. It was an old two story house designed by the Frank Lloyd Wright feller. That means something to someone but Uncle Bubba couldn't remember what or who. Anyway, he parked and sat as Sweet Pea pulled herself together as a women is prone to do and then they made their way to up onto the front porch and stood at the heavy wooden framed glass door. On the other side of the door a wide wooden staircase climbed a long way up and Bubbie wondered if anyone would know if they had arrived. He was unsure if he should knock or just walk in, but his Southern manners called for him to knock.
Upon no answer he waited what he felt was a respectful length of time before entering. He and Sweet Pea entered the foyer and stood quietly waiting, looking about the place and admiring its quaint, old fashioned beauty. The front door opened behind them and the owner stepped in and apologized as he was working outside and had missed them. After a quick introduction he led them back to the rear of the first floor, down a narrow hallway to their room. Sweet Pea and Bubbie stepped into the room to find that it was actually a suite. They were standing in a small kitchen. There was a large bedroom and bathroom through another doorway and an open sitting area on the opposite side of the suite. The owner briefly explained the keys and the entrances to the house and then excused himself for the evening. Uncle Bubba made a trip out to retrieve their bags as Sweet Pea investigated the room; it met all of her expectations.
After an evening of walking around the lake, watching the swans and ducks they walked through the residential streets lined with more Wright bungalows canopied by gargantuan oaks. They had a great dinner out on the patio of a little restaurant while listening to two musicians played drums and an acoustic guitar in a corner. They walked back to the B&B to retire for the night and Uncle Bubba was glad to flop on the bed to end a great day. Sweet Pea was busily getting ready for bed, the way women do, and Bubbie mentioned that he could hear people talking above, or perhaps it was a TV. Sure enough, people were walking around and the ceiling creaked and groaned above their heads. It was quaint in a way, for a while. But as Bubbie tried to doze off to sleep the gibbering mumble coming down through the ceiling grew increasingly annoying. He tossed and turned until he finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Sweet Pea was up early while Bubbie laid in bed. He said, "Darlin', I reckon I can hear someone snoring!" He laid there listening to the sounds of the house and pondered a notion that came into his mind. Those old houses are noisy, they weren't built with sound proofing in mind. It got him thinking about how living conditions and the lack of sound proofing may have forced people into a social contract to try to be quieter so as not to disturb their neighbors. This may have been the case back in those days, prior to the development of suburbia and quieter hotel rooms. With isolation we didn't have to be so concerned with disturbing the neighbors (thus the expression, no one knows what goes on behind closed doors) and the social contract is forgotten. Over time, that forgotten contract (and other factors) gives way to, "I can do and say whatever I want to and if you don't like it, don't listen!" The idea of being politely quiet for the sake of the neighbors and the shame of airing things in public is lost. So now when you stay in a quaint old hotel, people walk and talk as if they are the only ones in the place. Or when you live in an apartment the same is true as you know. It's just another one of Bubbie's crazy theories, but he reckoned that it has merit. So to him it isn't a stretch that under the same loss of contract, parents don't isolate their crap from their kids. They carry on around them and in front of them, which teaches children that this kind of behavior is acceptable. In Bubbie's view, living in this age of accelerated progress affords us a realtime view that progress is not necessarily good if we'll just take a moment to stop and look at it. Progress without thought of all consequences is like letting go of a trapeze handle and then looking down to see if anyone put up the safety net.
Getting married
If that isn't frustrating enough, a jug handle may be next to a driveway of a plaza or even another, separate road intersection so in the bustle of trying to maneuver in traffic and not get in a wreck, you may inadvertently miss the jug handle turn and wind up heading off in a direction that is opposite of where you want to be heading. If this is the case, then good luck making it back to your original intersection to get back on track. Bubbie is sure that to the locals, this is nothing. But to the uninitiated and unfamiliar it's a dysfunctional and confusing affair. Being a visitor, Uncle Bubba realizes that it's their way and as odd as it all seems, it's not going to change. In Bubbie's view, it just reinforces his happiness to live in the south where many of the roads may be dirt and gravel but they lead to where a body wants to go.
Uncle Bubba is on the road again. He's traveling for work. He got called out on another job assignment out of town. This job that he has is a job that he never really wanted at this point in life, he just kind of fell into it. It's very early in the morning, he was up quite a few hours before dawn. It's still dark. As he drives along the countryside on the two-lane byways, every so often he passes a little house; the moonlight and headlights reveal it in the purple shadows, maybe a night light is on shining dimly through a curtained window. He imagines the folks inside still fast asleep; wrapped in the comfort of their own little universe. He wishes he was still home fast asleep, at least still lying next to Sweet Pea, holding her tight. But he's on the road because he's a man. For centuries, being a man meant living a life of virtue and excellence. Uncle Bubba is of that lineage. Sure, he'd like to get away from this job, it's his intention, but for now he has a job to do; primarily it all leads back to taking care of Sweet Pea. He desires getting a new job that affords him the ability to stay home and not be on the road for weeks and months at a time; to live in his home and be there every night, to enjoy his home and his family and friends on the weekends. What good is his Harley or his fishing boat if he's not even home to use them? Most importantly, he is no longer willing to compromise his commitment to spending every moment with his wife, Sweet Pea. As they say, no one ever gets to the end of their life with regrets of not having spent more time at work and less time with the one they love. This job has served him in these unstable times in America. It pays the bills and has benefits. And to be vested into those benefits he has to keep working a few more months. And it's like Bubbie to see things through. It's important to him to get to the end and say that he did it. He's come this far. Bubbie is a man and to be a man is to be a person that sees things thru to the end. It takes courage, it takes strength. In Bubbie's view, hopefully one day someone that really enjoys being on the road drives by Bubbie's home in the middle of the night and the night light will glow in the window, and Uncle Bubba will be contentedly sleeping next to Sweet Pea holding her close.
