Death of a Dyson Box

I have been thinking about writing again for awhile, and so I am setting myself up to start from here. Let's just pretend that almost 2 years have not passed and that we are headed in a whole new direction. More on that soon.

Last year, during this time, I was mad at my vacuum. The bristle suction thingy was playing tug of war with me and my long curly red hair, and the hair won. We needed a replacement. I somehow convinced my husband that if he plunked down the 400 bucks or so for the new Dyson, that not only would our house be freshly vacuumed on a daily basis, but he would be investing in the wave of the future. The best technology in Vacuums. What I didn't plan for was the affect it would have on my children.

Now, if you are thinking that they wanted to do the vacuuming, you are wrong. If you think that they are scared of the loud and roaring sounds that said vacuum produced, wrong again. If you own a Dyson, you know that besides being an obnoxious yellow, they come in a sleek black box with detailed instructions in multiple languages. If you are a Troutman kid, the box is always the hit. Any box. Tiny jewelry box, cereal box, refrigerator box, moving box. My kids dig boxes. Maybe they don't have enough toys. Maybe they have great imaginations. Probably both.

Child number three, male, red haired like mama, and also known as "Charles Wallace" by a select few, is kind of macabre. Upon opening the new Vacuum and after the oohs and ahhhs subsided, we carefully placed the black box in the garage near the trash cans to go out the following day. The following day came and went and the black box was nowhere to be found. Not thinking much of it, and assuming the trash collectors had taken the box, we went about our lives eating, drinking, sleeping, vacuuming as normal. Child number three, age 4 at the time, began inquiring about the dead, mummification, embalming methods, etc. While we were slightly alarmed, we realized that Halloween was upon us and perhaps the Spiderman costume was played out. When he asked me to roll him in toilet paper before bed that night, I was skeptical, but I humored him, and lightly "mummified" my son.

The following night when he asked me again to mummify him, I decided to try and figure out what was going on in the noggin. I followed him into his room and everything looked normal. I sat on his bed and talked to him about ancient Egypt, and looked through a book about it. I turned off the light and walked out of the room. A couple of hours later, I went in to check on him and lo and behold, the black vacuum box had reappeared looking like a long sleek coffin, and lying on my sons bunk bed. When I peered inside, I found my little boy, sleeping in a stiff straight position. What is a mom to do? Do I freak out and wake him up and seek counseling for all of us? Do I cast out weird Vacuum box demons, and return the beloved Dyson? Do I wait until morning and sneak into the room and discard the box?

I opted to wait until the "stage" had passed and then quietly remove the cardboard coffin from my son's room. The way I see it, my children want to learn, know, become wise, and experience what they are hearing. When you read about fast sports cars, don't you want to drive one? When I read about a delicious chocolate cake recipe, you can bet that I will be making it. When we learned about the majesty of the Grand Canyon...we had to see it for ourselves. When little boys read about Ancient Egypt, they may see a "mummy box" in your vacuum packaging. I am proud of my little guy for using his resources to experience something new, and although I was mildly disturbed by his obsession with the dead for a few weeks, I came to realize that imagination is the mark of all the greatest authors, inventors, painters, and thinkers. Even the macabre ones.

Wally Lamb

I have never really given a book review on here, but I must do it now. Over the last year I read 2 of the most fabulous, real, raw, true, funny, honest, strange and beautiful books. Wally Lamb somehow captures both genders in amazing and painfully honest ways. The first book I read is She's Come Undone, about an obese girl coming of age and growing through adulthood with a multitude of problems and interesting circumstances, and unlike current trends in comtemporary fiction, the ending is comfortable and happy, not post-modern and strange. Loved It! The next is probably the best book I have ever read- I mean ever...including everything I read in college pusuing a literature degree. It is called I Know This Much Is True. This book is about twin brothers, one has a mental illness, and the other is "normal" which means nothing as you will see in the book. It is a beautiful weaving of 4 generations from Italy to America and the strange truths and lies that grow us into who we are. His new book The Hour I First Believed, came out in November and I have just started it and already I find myself relating to each character and experiencing the master painter at work. Lamb paints people with words. Wonderful and inspiring fiction- check it out!

Read a book- go to new places

Recently, my sister in law was in town. This is interesting because she lives in China most of the year. When she comes, I try to talk to her about Chinese culture, her perspectives etc. Inquiring minds want to know around here. (As I write this she has returned to China and has begun a 2 year language program.)

This visit, while on the beach, we discussed American life and the vast difference with other world cultures. Now those that know Leslie, know that she is a world traveler. She has been to Costa Rica, Uganda, Tajikistan, Thailand, all over Europe, and not just for a measly week-extended stays people. So I think she has a pretty good grasp on our culture and also on some others.

While we were conversing on the beach that warm Florida day, we began to discuss the closed- mindedness some Southern Americans seem to have. We covered racism and it's nasty effects on those not fortunate to travel and see for themself that all people are relatively the same. She shared with me that she thinks that not seeing and experiencing other places besides your own backyard may be why some people remain ignorant in their views. I quickly agreed. One needs to get away from their "own" to get a clue as to how the other half lives. But like all things with me, I could not leave it at that. Many days later, the conversation kept me awake at night and I worked through it over and over.

I think that I felt concern for myself; I had not traveled nearly as far or as wide as she. Was I a racist, or uncultured? I certainly felt as though I was not due to 3 semesters with my Africana Studies professor Dr. Gayles. (He opened my eyes a million times to racism in America.) No- I can say I am not, so what makes me, an untraveled lady of the South not ignorant?

BOOKS. I began to work through the issue with new eyes. If you read, you cannot hide behind your fears of other people and their different ways. If you read, you DO travel to new lands, speak new languages, eat exotic foods, learn new customs and walk in another person's shoes. You can stay just where you are and never leave that cozy chair and yet be all over the world at the same time. That is true time and place travel. That is the key to getting a new perspective- Glorious and freeing Books! I love them like old friends.

I read constantly. This week I read A Severe Mercy by Vanauken and My Antonia by Cather. I have traveled to England and had tea with C.S. Lewis, fished in the Keys, hiked Virginian forests, had wonderful conversations about God with philosophers of the last century, played in the Nebraska prairies among bull snakes and rattlers, danced in a circus tent with young ladies in too short dresses, attended an opera and the list goes on. I did this all for under 3 dollars at a used book shop. (Talk about being green!)

I encourage everyone to read so we can have better conversations, get new perspectives, see with fresh eyes. You can be alone for the rest of your life, in a cell, on a remote island, but with a stack of great books, you are not there at all.
Of course, I went back to Leslie and we re-discussed and she agreed with the me of course, because after all, before she was a world traveler, she was a great reader. And she still is.