Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – November 13, 2004

Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – November 13, 2004

Another Chat With Scrummie

Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – November 13, 2004 – Well – here it is another Saturday night, and I’m happy to be home! I have no plans. I suppose I could have made some, but it hardly seemed worthwhile. Then I’d actually have to interact with people – and that takes a significant amount of energy.

I’m getting older and I don’t want to sap my remaining energy cells too soon – especially not on cocktail circuit minutiae. However I did meet Big at the Chapters Store at Bayview Village. I bought a couple of cookbooks – Big bought the new book that is all the rage right now titled – “He’s Just Not That In To You” – how to tell if a man is seriously interested in you or not. She flipped open at a page at random and it said – “He’s just not that in to you if he’s having sex with another woman”. Right–e-o. That says it all. I don’t think I need to buy that book – I’ll just borrow Big’s copy.

We left Chapters and went to have a bite of dinner at one of the mall restaurants. We had a rude, annoying waiter, a small table and a cramped location. On one side was a young Oriental couple who couldn’t keep their hands and lips off each other. They fed each other from their respective dinner plates and I wanted to reach over and box their ears. I tried to remember if I was ever young and in love. I’m thinking probably not.

On the other side was a seventy something foursome on their way to the movies. The man closest to me suffered from asthma. I’m sure that’s a worrisome, uncomfortable condition, but perhaps he could just have had dinner at home instead of sitting next to me, happily sharing his coughs, sputters and wheezes.

After dinner, I had to get back home to look after my boys, so Big and I parted company about seven o’clock. As I was driving home I realized what a curmudgeon I’ve become. This condition just seems to have snuck up on me. I have no tolerance – everything bugs me – I even bug myself. As I sat down at my computer to do this bloody writing, I thought Scrummie might have some perspective on my condition – so I just asked him outright if there was any hope for me.

He turned his little stone head my way and said a simple “no – not unless you change your attitude.” Well that just figures. What did I expect an Inukshuk to know about the woes of a middle-aged woman? It serves me right for even asking the little pest. I thought about banishing Scrummie to one of the storage baskets under my work table, but realized how childish that would be. He doesn’t get out much – how could I have expected him to know anything about the intricacies of human nature?

However, the more I thought about it, the more I knew he was right. My attitude sucks. Can you imagine anyone wanting to deck an ailing man at a restaurant just because he has asthma? I’m the one who should have stayed at home until I was in a better mood. Scrummie looked at me timidly and shrugging his little, stone shoulders said, “Why don’t you just lighten up a little and stop struggling with life?” From whence came this seemingly intimate knowledge of human behaviour?

I looked at Scrummie with new respect. Perhaps he understands more that I give him credit for. So I thought I’d blunder on a little further and find out how I can change my attitude. So I posed that question to Scrummie and he said, “Change seems to be a difficult thing for you humans? We Inukshuk are perpetually stationary – we have no options – but we’re in better moods than most people. You humans need to alter your behaviour if you want a new outcome, so instead of the constant analysis about your life situations, why not do what you’d really like to be doing?”

I looked at Scrummie again. How does he know these things? Better still, why can’t I figure it out without the aid of a four inch high stone statue who speaks to me during my moments of personal turmoil? Everyone should be lucky enough to have a Scrummie. A dispenser of wisdom, a friend who doesn’t judge and a source of homespun wisdom.

If you don’t have an Inukshuk, or comparable inanimate object to talk to, may I suggest that it just might be one of the most significant things you can buy. Of course, as an alternate, you can always go into therapy.