Fifteen days in the company of my heirs
August 27, 2011 § Leave a comment
Fifteen days in the company of my heirs has taught me some interesting things about them:
1. They like stuffy, damp rooms. (Windows remain closed, a/c unused). It’s as if they did not notice the stink.
2. Plastic clothes do not bother them. Patting their back makes a smacking sound — like slapping a super-market shopping bag — yet, they feel neither itchy, nor scratchy, nor sweaty in their shopping bags — er, clothes. Incredible.
3. They do not want to try any strange or unusual foods. They came to Europe not in order to try anything new, but because everyone is going to Europe. It’s not an exercise in exploring the unexplored, but of doing more of what everyone else already does.
4. The opportunity to see the sunrise over the sea from my living room window did not tempt them once to get up a little earlier during their entire 15 day stay.
5. It is possible to walk through this beautiful city and not notice its beauty.
6. A good-looking man and a average-passable woman — their parents — can give birth to three extraordinarily ugly children. Their feet in particular fascinated me: I have never seen such ugly, misshapen, flat, huge feet in my life. They had no ankles: the leg, as massive and as straight as a Byzantine malachite column just runs directly into the broad, flat foot without any attempt at forming anything resembling a joint. With feet like that, they ought to be good swimmers, but — none can swim.
7. Although interaction with older siblings can raise the apparent age and mental maturity of the younger children, apparently the opposite is also possible. The two girls are respectively 15 and 18, but speak and behave as if they were 12.
8. They have no interests. They have nothing interesting to tell and when one tries to tell them something, they quickly telegraph lack of interest by switching the topic. The interaction is all at a level of dumb jokes and constant mutual teasing.
9. Hearing their mother tell me her life story was edifying: she married in a hurry the first man who proposed, in order to get away from her nasty mother; for all that, she remains in constant touch with her mother (now that they no longer live together, she seems less nasty) and says she’s important in her life (“a mother is a mother”) — possibly because the marriage has turned out a failure.
10. The overall impression of the life-story is one of an uninterrupted sequence of bad decisions, one after another, relentlessly. It reminds me of a certain comedian who once observed about a certain national leader that he consequently erred every day of his life for ten years straight.
11. Most advice I give her, elicits disbelief that such a course of action can even be possible.
They seem badly made: both physically and mentally. I don’t recognize anything of myself in these people. How can it be possible that we are the same species?