My Persimmon

Despite what her healthy appearance may say, my wife has a disease. It's a language disease, and the bad news is that it's genetically transmitted and incurable. She inherited it from her mother, and I don't know how many generations will have it. It's the same disease that comedian Norm Crosby has, and he doesn't seem to be getting any better either.

My first exposure to her illness came when we had just begun dating. I was an aspiring musician and songwriter, I was going to college, and I worked 40 hours a week in a furniture store. Susie was busy too, so getting our schedules together for a date was a little difficult. At my "coming out" party, (it was a dinner party hosted by her parents for some other reason entirely, but Susie thought that this might be the time to introduce me to her parents' friends) she announced to the room that, "yes, we (she and I) are busy people, and our hours are very erotic." After we convinced her Dad to put the shotgun down, I explained that our hours were not erotic but that they were erratic. That was only the first sign of this troubling disease.

I soon learned that she came by it honestly. Someone in the family related this story: After Susie missed a day of school in the 6th grade, her mother (an otherwise capable and successful businesswoman) sent a note that said "Please excuse Susan's abstinence yesterday". Later that same year she sent a note allowing her to go on a field trip with the pronouncement that "Susan has my persimmon to go with the class today". Hmm. Does that mean she was actually transporting a fruit item (and not just any fruit item, but her mom's personal fruit item-note that it is MY persimmon)? I am aware of some very strange customs her family has. For many years, if you invited her Uncle Huey to your home he would bring along Bessie, the family milk cow, because he said she didn't "do well" when left alone. That's not a problem anymore. Apparently Bessie stopped "doing well" permanently some time back and she is buried in a place of honor on the family farm.

More bad news. This disease goes back at least one more generation, including Susie's grandmother as well. She called one day to let us know that she was coming to Houston to have some minor eye surgery done and she wanted to do some shopping while she was here. She asked, "Honey, could you put me in a hotel near the gonorrhea?" I explained to granny that there probably were hotels near the gonorrhea, but that I preferred to put her in one near the Galleria, if she was ok with that.

Like many diseases, this one goes into remission occasionally. We went the entire summer this year without it rearing its ugly head. But, on the first day of school, it returned with a vengeance. Our boys, who are 13 and 15 were getting ready for school and the bus came by way too early and they missed it. Susie's call to the Bus Barn went something like this:

"Uh-uh. Right. So the bus coming by at this hour is only going to happen today, and never again, right? I thought that was the case. I just knew this had to be an apparition".

No. Unless it was a "ghostbusser", it was an aberration. Pray for us.

by Dennis Welch