A. Blinken

Our family, like most families, has a member who constantly makes bad decisions, and constantly passes his misfortune on to family. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are times when most of us have to rely on family for a time, that’s what families are for. Granny Wise took me in for a couple of pretty important years when I was a kid, for example. When we get on our feet we take our turn helping cousins through the common misfortunes of ill health and government attention. But, some people become skilled at draining relative after relative, and in our family it’s the cousin I’ll call "Frank" because his name is Francis and I should hide his identity. So, I heard from my Aunt that "Frank" is up at Granny Wise’s cabin. I left my work and made a bee line to Granny’s, and on the way I thought of the trail of drug busts, unsupported kids, angry landlords, DUIs and so on that "Frank" had left in his 30 short years. I thought of all the cousins who had been ripped off, one way or another, by "Frank." I also thought of Granny, her stooped shoulders and knobby hands, the suffering she’d had in her life, the relatively thin margin on which she lived, her few meager possessions and the little cache of nuggets, dust and glittering quartz that is her remembrance of Granddad Wise. I got madder and madder, at "Frank", and at everybody in the family who found it easier and cheaper to pay him off and ship him to another relative than to slap him good and hard and make him take responsibility for his life. I rattled into the driveway and saw the old red hatchback "Frank" drives, probably without insurance. I stomped toward the house, my fists clenching and unclenching, ready repay him for any harm he’d done to Granny. I had almost made it to the house when I heard Granny shout, "hey, A.B., over here. Bring a spud fork from the barn." There was Granny, sitting on her bench in the garden, and "Frank" was standing with a big wooden mallet and a modestly dented cabbage root on a stump in front of him. In spite of the cool air, he was covered in sweat and grit. Granny said, "I told him I’d give him twenty bucks to dig up this little patch of the garden and get rid of the cabbage roots." "Frank" looked up at me. "That was over two hours ago, A.B. The patch is only ten by fifteen, I thought I could do it in twenty minutes." I nodded and smiled; Granny had given him hell’s half acre to plow, it would take hours to dig up and bust the stubborn cabbage roots. I said, "’Frank’, are you going to be staying long with Granny?" He shook his head, "No, man, I’m not. In fact, I have to head out to see one of my kids. I haven’t seen him in a while, and I think it’s his birthday." Granny said, "but, you aren’t done with the cabbage patch." "I know, Granny, but really, the kid needs to see his Dad, you know." Granny nodded, "that’s right, it’s all about family. You don’t want to let your kids down." "Frank" took this opportunity to beat feet, and as I heard his hatchback sputter out of the driveway, I smiled at my crazy old Granny Wise. "Well, you got him, Granny." She smiled. "Yeah. Hey, I’ll give you twenty bucks to finish up this little patch he didn’t do." "No, he didn’t do much, it would take two and a half or three hours of hard work to finish up. I have to get back to work." Granny held up a twenty: "I’ll bet twenty bucks you can’t finish this patch in less the two and a half hours." "Come on, Granny!" "Fine, A.B., I just thought you’d help out an old lady who can’t hardly take care of herself." So, that’s how Granny told me to mind my own business that day.