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HOME OF THE LAZY BOY

Shocking Revelation(s!)

It’s not often that we’re forced to face the absolute truth about the immutable past, but sometimes a shocking revelation (or two) rears it’s ugly head and has its way with us. .  A friend of mine recently pointed out that any time anybody wants to make gripping movie about family tension and strife and emotional catharsis and all that stuff they invariably choose Thanksgiving Day as the backdrop.  In this case, my personal moment of truth greeted me amid gaily wrapped presents and holiday cheer on Christmas Day, 1998.

          The day started out OK.  Following a late (Lutefisk-free) evening of Elfing Around  we all woke up to find that Santa Claus had indeed noted our “Change of Address” since his last visit to us.  The sleepy Borough of Rutledge must be on the really good map Santa obviously carries. He wasn’t even confused by the fact that we have a chimney but no fireplace.

          The reindeer chomped down most of the carrots we left for them and Santa was no doubt refreshed by the small plate of cookies.  In return, he brought Brad a shiny new red bike w/ training wheels and the Babies a bunch of fun wrapping paper and ribbon. The first sign of trouble appeared when Sally realized that she had contracted the 1-day intestinal virus that was going around (My mother had it the day before) and would be unable to accompany us down to Aunt Bix’s house in Virginia.

          Did I mention that my mother was visiting?  She and I had breakfast and packed all the kids off into the van to take our traditional Christmas journey to Northern Virginia, culminating in dinner and more festive present opening. We had a delightful Christmas Dinner marred only by Benjamin and Gabriel banging their silverware too loudly (and violently) on some of Bix’s priceless heirloom style china. 

          It was quite handy having a plethora of other adults around to help take care of all of the small fry.  Uncles stopped babies from climbing dangerous stairs. Cousins dragged them out of “Electrocution Land” (a fully lit Christmas Tree, encircled by electric train).  Grandmother cooed lovingly.   Aunts provided everyone a multitude of tasty snacks.

          Despite all of this help, one fact soon became clear.  In my role as “The Next Best Thing to Mommy”,   I was still the Main Connection.  Numero Uno in the hearts of squeaking boys.  As we often say in our household, I was really “busy-beavering”  it up (My spell checker just learned this phrase, incidentally).

          And then it happened. Shocking Revelation #1 arrived while I was in the living room changing one of many diapers. My mother, whose only real crime in this narrative is making pleasant conversation, let slip the bombshell.

          “Say, for someone who was such a Lazy Kid, you certainly turned out to be an awfully busy Adult.” 

          “!!!!???”, I replied. Lazy.....Lazy...... Did you say Lazy?   My lightning-fast mind quickly did some lightning-fast mathematical calculations.  Fact:  most people would consider the term “Kid” to refer to one who has attained an age of  roughly 10 years.

Fact:  I am currently 43 years old (creeping up on 44).  Resultant Fact:  it would seem that my mother has been much too busy throughout the last 33 years to ever mention to me (even once!) that she remembers me as being of the Lazy variety.

          When asked to defend her statement, she admitted, “My main memory of you as a child is that of you lying on the floor in front of the television, eating oranges.”

          Well, well, well.  Was it Lazy when I piled the snow up in the backyard so high that it completely ruined the driveway (Using the garden hose in sub zero conditions to create ice flows might not have been the best idea I’ve ever had).  Was it Lazy when Scott McJames and I dug that extensive underground tunnel system which even the Viet Cong might envy?  Was it Lazy when I tied the rope around the ornamental cherry tree and had the self propelled mower cut the lawn itself? (Okay, maybe this last one is a bad example).

          Be that as it may, Bad News often comes in pairs.  Just as I was getting over the trauma of Shocking Revelation #1, a more insidious Shocking Revelation (heretofore referred to as Shocking Revelation #2) began to seep into my consciousness.

          Aunt Bix’s house at Christmas was filled with a number of people who knew me in my childhood or in later stages of my adolescence.  Doesn’t it seem odd that not one of these people seemed very surprised to hear me described as being a “Lazy Kid?”

BRAD AND CHARLIE, XMAS 1998

NEWSFLASH:
RCM Jr.’s Childhood Condition Upgraded (thanks to the Internet Archive “Wayback Machine” for recovering this:

       After over three months of my ceaseless whining, Virginia S. Morbeck (a.k.a . my mom) has admitted that perhaps she used the wrong word to describe my youthful demeanor. In what she has since referred to as “That unfortunate statement I made”, you might recall that she characterized me as having been a “LAZY” kid.   Despite being one of the nicest people ever to have walked on the planet, she has had to endure my continual harping about this perfectly innocuous offhand comment.
                “It was MEANT as a compliment, ” she has since tried to remind me. Sweet Victory will soon be mine, however.
      Recently she called me and admitted, “Perhaps I used the wrong word when I described you as being ‘LAZY.’ The word I actually meant to use was ‘INDOLENT”.
               Alright! “Indolent!” Now that’s more like it! See, I wasn’t “Lazy” after all. Hmmm....... let’s see. There’s only one problem. I’m really not too sure as to the exact meaning of the word “indolent.”
      It’s time to let my fingers do the walking over to my trusty “Webster’s New World Dictionary” (Second College Edition, if you’re keeping score at home). Aha, here it is. Page 717. Column Two. A few inches    below the map of “Indochina.”

indolent adj. 1. disliking or avoiding work; idle; lazy.................Hey!!!!!

FINAL WORDS ON THIS SUBJECT!

............Enough already! I'm through, finished, Kaput! I'll let this poor woman live in peace. My mother sent me this very nice disclaimer on Mother's Day 1999 in response to my obnoxious behavior of the past few months.

NOT AN APOLOGY: A STATEMENT

Mother’s Day 1999

        Since my only son Robert Charles Morbeck Jr. - otherwise known all of his life as “Mother’s Treasure” (according to his Grandmother Shaw) - doesn’t seem to want to settle for the present esteem in which he is held:
       Therefore: - I will state that he was energetic ( on his own projects); he was obliging (if asked); he was creative, he was hard working (he shelved books at the library to support his photography hobby and to buy his NIKON, Super 8 projector, and film). He brought me nice presents from his travels to Japan and Europe with the bands, he learned to cook, he was kind to cats and dogs......

          So - on this Mother’s Day 1999, I will state that he has been the kind of son I am
blessed to have. And he’s handsome, too- and married well. If three little boys turn out as well as he did, the world’s a better place.
                                                                                VSM Mother’s Day 1999

I SEEM TO HAVE LOST MY PICTURE OF WENTWORTH! IVE INCLUDED ONE FROM OUR 1966 VACATION AND ONE FROM XMAS 1998 INSTEAD!

Lazy Kid with one of his Lazy Friends. 761 Hyslip Ave., sometime in the ‘60’s  The dog’s name was Wentworth (Backus), whom I believed for many years to be a St. Bernard. Upon further review (As the NFL replay officials might say), it would seem that he was actually a springer spaniel.