Glorious Moments of Transcendent Wrongness
January 15, 2012 § 11 Comments
My mother likes to kick things. Varmints, for one. Here she is showing her grandson how to dispatch an unsuspecting baby squirrel delicately nibbling at the first pecan of the season it just stole from her tree, its little whiskers lit by early morning light.
She also likes to stomp things. Graves, for example. My sister, not the Rabbit but the other one, the Stephen Spielberg of the Christian Right, who films everything, was rolling tape as my mother led a delegation of relatives from grave to grave in our old family cemetery in Louisiana, giving the oral history of our forefathers who had –
“He’s in hell!” she announced suddenly at her dear grandfather’s plot and began to stomp away as the family fell into stunned silence. My sister heroically adjusted focus and preserved the moment as the squirrels in the trees around us instructed their young: See that old lady? Don’t piss her off.
It was a Glorious Moment of Transcendent Wrongness, like when my cousin Jack made three blatant grammatical errors in four words: I AIN’T WENT NOWHERE, or when my other cousin, self-styled preacher J. Ernest, tried to raise a man from the dead (had been dead five days, and embalmed. Seriously. No, not kidding).
In my upcoming novel, Blue Asylum, my favorite characters are the ones who are most wrong. Like Lydia Helms Truman, presumably sent to Sanibel Lunatic Asylum for her political leanings. In Chapter Five, at the dinner table, Lydia Helms Truman does something so spectacularly unsettling that it made me bestow on her the very highest honor…she could very well be a relative of mine.
I wonder if it’s just me, or is it you, too? Have you ever witnessed someone doing something so very epically, universally historically Big Bang wrong that you said, wow that is really just so not right, but you had the tone of voice of an alpha male with a small penis stroking the hood of a Lamborghini?