Beech Tree News Network

Do you remember the line in the movie, “Sweet Home Alabama,” where Reece Witherspoon looks at the chaos going on around her and says, “You need a passport just to visit this state.”  It’s true.  You will find a different perspective in the state of Alabama, at least in the part where Garey grew up.  Time is a lesser commodity there.  Everyone has time, and it should be spent with abandon in order to save the greater commodity, which is money.  I remember when Garey’s dad, J.D., was alive, he said to Garey once, “It’s just your time,” when Garey was considering hiring a job done instead of doing it himself. 

               “They think they’re going to live forever,” I said to Garey, about his parents.  J.D. would be gone by age sixty-eight.  Garey’s mom, Aggie is still going strong at age ninety-three.  Maybe she will live forever.

               We went to Alabama this past weekend for an early Thanksgiving.  I hesitated before I committed to the trip.  When all of us are together in the small house, things can escalate pretty quickly.  Charlotte and Aggie will usually have one of their classic, “Mother I told you/Charlotte stop chewing me out!” encounters, which they did.  This time, it was over Aggie’s sweaters. “Mother, you can’t wear them if they’re still in the box.  Charlotte, I don’t go anywhere to wear them.”

               I coaxed myself into going by reminding myself that it would just be Friday night, Saturday and Saturday night, then we could leave after breakfast on Sunday morning.  I forgot to factor in the time warp that occurs in that neck of the woods, however, and that brief period of time with which I coaxed myself into going lasted at least four days—that’s what it felt like, anyway.

               There’s always something that needs fixed at Aggie’s house, and since it just involves your time, Aggie is not shy about giving you a project when you get there.  Garey gets the most assignments, but I got in on the action this time, as well.  The pipe from her bathroom sink—or lavatory, as she calls it—going into the wall had rusted apart.  She had been washing her hands and brushing her teeth in the kitchen sink for two weeks.  She told Garey about it last week, so he could bring his tools to fix it.  It was a bear of a job.  The old pipe, which had been installed when the house was built about 70 years ago, had to be chiseled out, and new pipe had to be put in.  Garey made several trips back and forth to the hardware store.  In the end, there was still a small drip that he couldn’t get to stop.  He told his mom he would put a bucket under it and check with some of his friends when he was back in Kentucky to see if they had a solution to the problem.  He had worked on the pipes all day long, and at this point, he was spent.

               “So, what you’re saying is, I don’t need to call a plumber just yet,” Aggie said.

               “God forbid that you would have to call a plumber,” I thought, but didn’t say.

               I need to pause here to tell you two things: 1. I love Aggie with all my heart, but she does frustrate me at times.  2. Aggie is not destitute.  I will not reveal her net worth, but I assure you, she can afford a plumber.

               The afore mentioned project she gave me was to set up internet in her house.  Spectrum offered her free internet for a month—with emphasis on the word “free”—and she was going to get her free internet before the time was up. 

               “There’s a whole box-full of stuff in there,” she said, “and I don’t know anything about it.”

               I found the whole box-full of stuff and set up the modem and the router.  I traced the coax cable from the TV to a hole in the floor that ran to a box in the basement.  I connected the coax to the modem then turned everything on, but still couldn’t get a signal.  My nephew, Brad, stopped by and got online to see if he could establish a connection.  We wallered it around all day before Charlotte was able to get customer support on her cell phone.  Finally, by around 4:30, we had it up and running.

               Aggie was pleased.  “I mainly wanted to get internet, because when you’re here, you can send your column from my house instead of having to drive over to Charlotte’s,” she told me.

               Now, isn’t that thoughtful?

               There were only two problems with that: 1. By the time I had finished with the internet installation, my brain cells were so fried that I couldn’t write a column if someone had held a gun to my head.  2. Aggie gets free internet for one month, which means before I get back to her house, she will have gotten her first bill.  When she gets her first bill, she will promptly cancel the service.

               But hey, it was just my time.