A<\/span>lthough the swinging bed falling with all of us on it during our impromptu family meeting had shaken us, the emotional state of Chillum Farm was strong. It would take more than an accident \u2013 whether of fate, weight, or construction — to deeply disturb our bonds of love. We were a cohesive family unit and we took the commune mantra of \u201cmore love\u201d seriously. I had to admit that this concept of which I\u2019d been so skeptical had crept into my consciousness. After all, I now had more love than I\u2019d ever had in my life. These people loved me \u2013 unconditionally — and I loved them.<\/p>\nIf our collective tumble had any affect, it seemed to tighten the bond of the Spindle\/Joy\/Shadow threesome \u2013 they had withstood some heavy test together. There was a subtle shift in how Spindle divided her time between the threesome and Patrick, and we all went with her flow. Patrick, waiting to see where this would lead and what action he should take, focused on his art and plugged in to being part of the family as much as being in a couple with Spindle.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not giving you up,\u201d I heard him tell her in bed one night, my bed being next to theirs.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not giving you up either,\u201d she said, a tone of surprise in her voice. \u201cI love you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh Spindle,\u201d he sighed and kissed her. They stopped talking and started fucking.<\/p>\n
Life at Chillum Farm carried on at what seemed like our normal level. The garden grew heavier and heavier with the gifts of nature \u2013 aided, of course, by our intensive work. All these fruits of our labor required a new kind of attention; they weren\u2019t there to just pick and eat at will. We were growing food to sustain us over the winter. And that meant it had to be preserved. What did that mean to me? Nothing. Until this summer my food always came from the grocery store, and I never thought about how it got there. Now I was about to be immersed in major food production. We were canning.<\/p>\n
The kitchen was veggie processing central and Midge ran the inside part of this show, which was the actual canning. We worker bees were dispatched to the garden with large pots, buckets, and baskets to pick vegetables \u2013 ripe ones only. Each day was a different veggie: green beans, wax beans, zucchini, yellow squash, corn, early beets, and later would come the broccoli and cauliflower. They all went into clean, sterile canning jars that were then submerged into a large pot where a boiling water bath rendered them safe for storage and later consumption.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre these things really going to taste good?\u201d I asked as I stuffed beans into a jar.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, if you forget about crunchy, sweet, and fresh,\u201d answered Midge. \u201cBut they\u2019ll be good in soup.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re like canned veggies you buy in the grocery store, only better. They\u2019re ours,\u201d said Spindle as she wiped the jars after I filled them. \u201cAnd in the winter, they\u2019ll remind you of summer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWinter, ugh,\u201d Midge shuddered. \u201cThink you\u2019ll go to the Dubies in Arkansas again this winter, Spindle?\u201d Before she could answer, Midge had another question. \u201cAnd if you do, will it be you, Joy and Shadow, or you and Patrick, or the four of you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Spindle looked up, a thoughtful expression on her face. \u201cI haven\u2019t thought about it\u2026it seems so far away.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPass her a dubie,\u201d I said. \u201cShe needs help answering a multiple choice question.\u201d<\/p>\n
Laurie reached for the dubie can. \u201cAnd how long do you think Patrick\u2019s going to stick around, getting what looks like the shorter and shorter end of the stick?\u201d she asked. Good old Laurie, always ready to jump in where the rest of us were tiptoeing.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Spindle answered honestly. \u201cI do love him, but maybe a part of me never stopped loving Shadow.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mention of his name seemed to summon Shadow. \u201cShould we pick some of those purple beans or just eat them now?\u201d he asked the roomful of women.<\/p>\n
The guys helped pick the veggies but when we got the produce into the kitchen they often disappeared. Bottom line, canning seemed to be women\u2019s work. And hanging out together was fun, although the job was a huge time sucker. But looking at the rows of glass jars full of winter\u2019s food in varying hues of red, green, and yellow filled us all with enormous satisfaction.<\/p>\n
We also turned our cucumbers into pickles — bread and butter and dill, and we made dilled green beans called dilly beans, using plucked-from-the-garden garlic and dill. But the biggest canning venture by far was the tomatoes. Red, ripe, and juicy. We made sauce from the pear shaped Roma tomatoes, cooking them down to a smooth thick paste. We canned medium sized round ones whole for who knew what uses later, and we chopped larger ones to flavor pots of beans or soup. One day when we were knee deep in tomatoes I said, \u201cBoy, if my parents could see me now\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, what would they think?\u201d asked Joy, as she peeled the skin off a tomato.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think they\u2019d be pretty damn impressed,\u201d I said through a haze of dubie smoke.<\/p>\n
\u201cReally?\u201d Spindle raised her eyebrows.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, why not? Look how hard I\u2019m working and how strong I am.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, do they know you\u2019re staying here?\u201d asked Midge.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I\u2019ve been hinting, but I suppose I should just make it clear.\u201d<\/p>\n
After some soul searching and cheering on from the family I had decided to stay on the farm, a fact the Chillums had taken as a given long before I had. But now it was time to let my blood family know that I was trading them for this chosen family —\u00a0 I would be\u00a0 diplomatic, of course. I had to write some letters.<\/p>\n
The opportunity came while I was on veggie stand duty; even though we canned a fuckload we still had plenty of vegetables to sell. I arranged and rearranged the veggies and watched the traffic on Route 11 whiz by; no one noticed our red-lettered sign saying \u201cFresh Vegetables,\u201d or they just didn\u2019t want to buy our organic veggies. So I sat down on the grass with my back against the whitewashed building and began a letter to my parents. Wanting them to feel how wonderfully entrenched I was in farm life, I set the scene starting right where I was at the veggie stand. I described all the luscious vegetables that we\u2019d picked that morning and loaded into the truck. \u201cYou just can\u2019t believe the tomatoes and the eggplant, the green beans that are delicious even raw, and corn \u2013oh my god!\u00a0 I never knew what vegetables tasted like before this. And just think, I helped to grow them!\u201d I continued with how starting the truck was sometimes problematic because the solenoid was finicky. \u201dYou have to take a screw driver and stick it in just the right spot under the hood to get the truck started. I\u2019m so proud of myself that I learned how to do that \u2013 just like a mechanic.\u201d Then I launched into how we’d cleaned up and painted the little building that this local character Charlie McAdam had loaned us to use as a vegetable stand. \u201cLike Uncle Frank, mom, only not as big.\u201d My mother\u2019s brother had run a seasonal fruit and vegetable stand on the outskirts of Milwaukee when I was a kid; it couldn\u2019t hurt to invoke relatives and a relatable situation.<\/p>\n
The letter flowed easily, I felt good. I really was proud that I could go under the hood and poke around to start our funky old pickup, and that I was selling vegetables that I had a hand in growing, and that I was wanted by and had become part of this wonderful hippie family. So I wrote all that and concluded by saying that I wouldn\u2019t be returning to Milwaukee. I was staying on the farm and wasn’t that great. I was sure that after my relationship with the black activist, that nearly drove my father to kill himself, my parents would be pleased that I was now living with a group of Caucasians, many of whom were even Jewish. Plus, my parents had just embarked on a major life change themselves, by picking up and moving to Florida, so they should be able to relate to this. And since they now lived in Florida, what difference would it make to them if I didn\u2019t go back to Milwaukee. Yup, I was feeling pretty confident when I sent that letter off.<\/p>\n
I was on a roll so I also wrote my brother Arnie, who was temporarily staying in my apartment, to say I wasn\u2019t coming back. I knew he\u2019d be pleased because now he could live there for as long as he wanted. He\u2019d moved there earlier in the summer after hurriedly having to get out of the expensive place he was in. I didn\u2019t have to set any kind of scene in my letter to him, but I couldn\u2019t resist going on about the family and how righteous we were by living our beliefs. \u201cWe\u2018re changing the world by setting the example \u2013 we\u2019re not just talking the talk, but we\u2019re walking the walk.\u201d He wrote me back pretty quickly to say thanks for the apartment and to sort of wish me well. But he had his own take on creating change. \u201cI think what you\u2019re doing is admirable, but to really change the system you have to work from within it.\u201d What the hell did he know.<\/p>\n
The canning marathon tapered off for a few weeks until a new crop of tomatoes grew screamingly red and ripe and we were back in the kitchen. Joy came in from a trip down the road to the mailbox. \u201cHey Sunshine, there\u2019s a package here for you. It\u2019s from Florida.\u201d She handed over a small box wrapped in brown paper addressed to me in my father\u2019s handwriting. I don\u2019t think my father had ever written to me in my entire life; a queasy feeling crept into my stomach. I ripped open the package and dumped the contents on the kitchen table. A cassette tape fell out followed by a folded slip of paper. What the fuck was this? Not only had my father never written to me, but he\u2019d never sent me anything, particularly a cassette. It sure wasn\u2019t a new album by the Stones or Allman Brothers that he wanted me to hear, but what? I opened the paper and read my father\u2019s block printing:<\/p>\n
Dear Sis,<\/em><\/p>\n I didn\u2019t know how to respond to your letter so I made this tape to tell you<\/em><\/p>\n how I feel. Please play it when you\u2019re alone and I hope you\u2019ll listen to<\/em><\/p>\n what I say.<\/em><\/p>\n Love, Dad<\/em><\/p>\nThis definitely wasn\u2019t anything I wanted to listen to by myself, especially in this new environment where everyone shared everything. Word went out that I had something to listen to. When the whole family was in the house before dinner we all gathered at the kitchen table. Shadow rolled a joint and sent it around. \u201cThis has gotta be good,\u201d I said as I put the tape into our battery operated cassette player. I pushed play and my father\u2019s voice invaded the room. It was so out of context hearing it in the kitchen of my hippie home at Chillum Farm, I felt like I was tripping and having a bad trip.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello dear,\u201d he said. \u201cI hope you\u2019re listening to this by yourself because this is personal from me to you.\u201d We all laughed. He continued with, \u201cI was so upset when I read your letter that I didn\u2019t know what to do.\u201d Uh oh, I didn\u2019t like where this was going. I wasn\u2019t looking for my parents\u2019 approval, but I was hoping that even if they didn\u2019t share my excitement they\u2019d at least be happy for me. He then proceeded to say what a mistake it was for me to stay on this farm, how I was throwing my life away, and who were these people anyway.\u00a0 \u201cWhy would you leave your home in Milwaukee for these people you hardly know? Who are they? And how could you call whatever it is a family? We\u2019re your family!\u201d He was getting really revved up with this family business and how the farm was no place for me. He went on for quite a while, putting me down, putting the farm down, putting the family down. He reiterated that I was throwing my life away and what did I know anyway. We all listened, partly appalled and partly amused. He wound down with an appeal to my reason to do the right thing.<\/p>\n
When it ended, everyone, me in the lead, made fun of him and his message.<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus, what a jerk! The guy doesn\u2019t even know us and look how he talks about us!\u201d Lem was totally pissed.<\/p>\n
\u201cSomeone pass me a joint,\u201d was Midge\u2019s response.<\/p>\n
Spindle came over and put her arms around me. \u201cThat was awful,\u201d she said. She knew my dad was a loose cannon having lived through my divorce and relationship with the black activist with me, but she\u2019d never heard him like this firsthand.<\/p>\n
Every one of us felt invaded, violated, and trashed. Because he had in fact trashed us all. What a straight, stupid, narrow-minded guy. So typical of the straight world, so typical of parents, of my father. Who was he to judge the life I’d chosen to live and the people I’d chosen to live it with? What did he know about it, or about life for that matter?<\/p>\n
\u201cWell Sunshine, that\u2019s quite a message. What are you going to do?\u201d asked Shadow.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou mean, how am I going to respond? Because I\u2019m certainly not following any of his advice. I don\u2019t know\u2026\u201d I trailed off.<\/p>\n
I took the tape out of the machine, put it back in its packaging and set it aside. There was no reason to listen to it again. Who needed that negative energy. He had his point of view and I had mine, and it was obvious once again that they were not going to converge. He always seemed to forget that it was my life, not his.<\/p>\n
I stewed for about a week and then sat down in the new room to write my dad. The sun, tempered by a cool breeze, beamed joyfully through the windows. This room was so peaceful, it would help me to write a calm reply. I inhaled deeply on a joint, then rolled a cigarette and began to compose a brief letter. No point in dragging it out. I would sit on my anger and politely say that I\u2019m sorry he feels as he does but it\u2019s my life and this is how I\u2019m choosing to live it, and I hope he\u2019ll come around to see that I made the right decision. I was cranking it up pretty good when Spindle came in and sat down next to me. She took the roach out of the ashtray and lit it.<\/p>\n
\u201cI still haven\u2019t gotten my period,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh yeah? How long has it been?\u201d I\u2019d forgotten that she was late.<\/p>\n
\u201cI should have gotten it over three weeks ago. I think I\u2019m pregnant.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow can you tell? Isn\u2019t it still awfully early?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cSomething feels different,\u201d she said. \u201cI don\u2019t think I\u2019m just late.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat will you do if you are?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll have a baby.\u201d She smiled a kind of dreamy smile.<\/p>\n
Babies, and kids for that matter, didn\u2019t interest me and I had made the same assumption about her. It\u2019s not something we\u2019d much talked about. Turns out I was wrong. She wanted a baby. Suddenly, something else tripped across my stoned brain. \u201cIt would be Patrick\u2019s baby, wouldn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d she said simply, untroubled by the possible uncertainty.<\/p>\n
\u201cWow,\u201d I said, and hugged her because she was happy. \u201cSo when will you know if you really are pregnant?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m gonna go look in Our Bodies, Ourselves<\/em> and see how far along you have to be to get tested.\u201d She got up to get the book and brought it back to the new room. She found the chapter on pregnancy and read. \u201cFar out! I\u2019m late enough for a test to be accurate,\u201d she said. \u201cI think I can just go to the hospital and get a pregnancy test. I\u2019ll go to town tomorrow — but bummer, I know it takes a few days to find out.\u201d<\/p>\nSpindle went to town, and a few days later she walked down the road to our neighbors to call for the results. It was the beginning of September; we had glorious late summer weather, and Spindle came skipping back up the road pregnant.<\/p>\n
Reaction of family members to this news was mixed. Patrick was excited; Shadow was not. I was worried; Joy was interested. Nick was excited for Spindle. Lem thought it was great; Midge appeared to be enthusiastic but wasn\u2019t really. Laurie, the only other parent in the group, really was enthusiastic. This would be a big change in all our lives. But we were a family and we had more love.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
And Baby Makes Five<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1413","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-memoirs"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1413","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1413"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1413\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1603,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1413\/revisions\/1603"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1413"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1413"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1413"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}