Monday, January 02, 2006
Huldah Erickson, My Grandmother
She died 20 years before I was born, at least. She spent her life thumping bibles, raising babies and arguing religion with my grandfather, two jesus freaks, one from Norway, one from Sweeden, both fighting over the same repressed dead guy nailed to a stick.
I see her face and hair in mine, I see her dark eyes too. I'm afraid I see my future figure too, although time will tell. I'm glad my father was immune to the Jesus virus, and I inherited that immunity.
She was older at 60 than my mother is at 78, and I wonder just how freaked out she'd be by today, my "lifestyle", our strange family and a world filled with sex and violence and opportunistic hacks masquerading as concerned politicians and self declared "family values" issues.
I hope she's resting in peace with her lord, because my long dead father described a life of strife in the house he grew up in.
"Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis." Ralph Waldo Emerson