How to manage a family household

Here we discuss how to manage a family household. We show that it is really a very easy thing to do. However, there are rules and roles that MUST be followed for it work perfectly.

Unfortunately today, this is considered to be something that everyone knows how to do automatically. It is not taught. It is not carried down from parent to child. It is just considered to be unimportant. Therefore, very few people know how to really manage a household.

As such there is a dearth of practical information on this subject.

Lovely family.
In well run and well-managed households, people follow rules and take their roles seriously. This picture, and this article describes a traditional conservative household arrangement.

The information herein describes how to manage, and run, a family household in the traditional manner. Here, we discuss the importance of roles, rules, and responsibilities. Also known as “the three “r’s” of family happiness.

Introduction and Summary

There are two ways to manage a household. They are;

  • Progressive. There are no rules. There are no roles. There are no responsibilities. Everyone does their “own thing”.
  • Traditional. Managed with fixed roles, set rules and firm responsibilities.

There are NO other ways to manage a household. Partial, or experimental rules are always temporary. Unless there are strong and fixed rules, any familial management is progressive. Or to put it in another way, if you do not have roles and rules, you are running the household progressively.

Dinners in the 1960s.
In the 1960 and 1970s, most people had a traditional family. In a traditional family, the husband works, and gives all of his earning to the wife. The wife in turn, budgets the money, provides fresh and healthy meals, makes sure that the house is clean, and that everyone is happy. She is in charge of the education of the children, and supervises it and runs off to the school if anything does not pass her muster.

Special important note

While there are some similarity between political usage of this nomenclature, the relationship ends there. There are many politically progressive social liberals that maintain traditional conservative households. For instance, Bill Clinton, Barrack Obama, and Joe Kennedy. They all have very progressive liberal political interests, however they all run and manage their households in a traditional conservative manner.

Obama in the kitchen
While many American political personalities are staunchly progressive liberal, their home life is often quite conservative and traditional. In the case above, we have former President Obama washing the dishes after a family dinner in his household.

Historical background

America was founded upon and used traditional household management techniques from the very beginning. This served Americans well. It was a time-honored method with centuries of success. Everyone ran their families in the traditional manner. From the immigrants from South America to the American Indians, to the European Settlers. Everyone managed their families using the traditional model.

Classic American house in the suburbs.
The single dwelling, single family house has been a stable of American society for many, many decades. This is what most young couples dreamed of someday owning.

In the traditional model, the man of the house would be the “bread winner”. He would go out and work. He would bring home his earnings and give all of it to his wife. She, in turn, would budget the money for the family. She would handle all domestic issues, the house, the family, the education, the meals and the clothing. Thus freeing up the man to concentrate on one solitary thing; making more money.

It worked well.

Then, around 1913, some new progressive ideas started to take hold of society. This included the Federal Income Tax, the Federal Reserve, and all the “modern progressive” lifestyles.

1920s girls wearing knickers.
Here is a small group of girls dressing like men in the 1920’s. they are wearing boy’s knickers, ties and men’s attire. It was so very shocking at the time.

Women and girls started to smoke, wear men’s clothes and flaunt promiscuity. Traditionalists were shocked and tried to downplay these behaviors. But they gained popular attention and were popularized by Hollywood, thus making the progressive lifestyle mainstream.

These ideas were such that rules, roles, and responsibilities would be rejected in favor of a new and improved way of managing families. That is to say, one that has no rules, no roles, and no responsibilities.

Flapper
In the 1920’s, it became popular to become a flashy “flapper”. This was a name that was coined by the rubber overshoes that the girls would wear at the time. They wouldn’t button them secure, and thus they would “flap” back and forth as the flappers walked.

This festered in tiny pockets in urban areas up until the 1960’s where it began to become popular due to the need for both parents to work to support the family. (It’s fundamentally due to the rise of inflation caused by federal mismanagement of the US dollar. But that is a discussion for another time.)

The 1970’s saw wide-scale implementation of progressive family management. Which was pretty much management of nothing, using no rules, no roles, and no responsibility. It was kicked off by the SJW Feminist movement in the 1970’s which pretty much put the “kill shot” into traditional family management, and family longevity.

Don’t believe me? Facts don’t lie.

Divorce rate in the United States over time.
This is a chart of the divorce rate in the United States over time. You can clearly see that the SJW feminist movement during the 1970’s played a major role in the divorce rate in America and the reduction on parental education for the children. This was coincidentally ALSO the time when the majority of American households migrated away from traditional conservative family arrangements to progressive arrangements wither there are no rule, no role, and no responsibilities. What is truly sad about this is that most Americans today, having been raised in families after 1975, have no idea how wonderful a traditional conservative family arrangement could be.

Today, the vast bulk of families manage using the progressive model. There are no roles, no rules, and few (if any) responsibilities. The rare hold-outs are traditionalists that can be found outside the mainstream society.

That is why you will find many people eating fast food for lunch, the rise of poor food choices, and the increase in obesity. That is why most families need to have two incomes. As no one is able to budget on one income.

Here, this post discusses how to run a family using the traditional model. And yes, do so today, in the heavily taxed, stressful, reality that the United States is today.

America has changed.
America has changed substantially in many, many ways from what it was first established as. Traditionalists, and conservatives lament these changes. While progressive socialists embrace the changes.

The Two Roles

In a traditionally managed household, there are two main roles. These are absolute and defined roles with ZERO shared responsibilities.

  • The “Man of the House”. He is the figurehead, and the “leader” of the home. He is the sole earner of the family. He gives 100% of his earnings to the family. His job is primarily towards earning money, maintaining household related equipment and repairs, and discipline.
  • The “Housewife”. She is totally responsible for the household budget, investment, savings, and all things financial. She is responsible to see that the household is clean, in good care, and that all domestic issues are taken cared for. She selects, chooses, budgets and handles all clothing and food choices for the family. It is her responsibly to make sure that the children are well behaved and being good in school.

In a well-run household, the wife would tell the man what to wear. She would select his clothing. Laying out his work clothes for the day, and his “house clothes” for him (with slippers) when he gets home from work.

Contrary to the progressive narrative, house clothes and slippers are a functional way to keep the house clean. Often the man would work dirty and filthy factory jobs. He would need to strip off his dirty and filthy attire before the housewife would ever let him put a step in the house. 

Which has led to such things as basement bathrooms (in Pittsburgh) and "Mud Rooms".
The housewife.
The housewife is responsible for all domestic affairs. This includes the house, the clothing, the food, and the children. She is totally and completely responsible for it all. To assist, she might ask her husband to behave in certain ways, or assist at times, but she is ultimately the person in full control of the domestic environment.

The wife is responsible for good, nutritious meals that are both healthy and tasty. She is responsible for the behavior of the children and teaching them about their roles in the family, in the community, and in society. She is also responsible for their spiritual and moral development.

 "After three years of happy marriage, and getting stressed out by her job in a busy payroll department, she decided in 2018 to turn back time — and live like a 1950s housewife. 

That’s when Holte, 30, transformed her Hillsboro, Oregon, home into a suburban shrine to the pre-ERA era, busying herself cleaning, making dresses using vintage patterns — and getting dinner on the table by the time her husband, Lars, 28, gets home from his job as an engineering manager. 

“I feel like I’m living how I always wanted to. It’s my dream life and my husband shares my vision,” she says as a vinyl Doris Day soundtrack plays in the background. “It is a lot of work. I do tons of dishes, laundry and ironing, but I love it and it’s helping to take care of my husband and that makes me really happy.” 

- The woman quits her job to spoil her husband like a 1950s housewife

The man, on the other hand MUST make and earn money. He must not fail at this task. If the housewife says that there isn’t enough money in the budget, then he must plan on how to bring more money in BY HIMSELF. It is his responsibility.

A happy relaxed family man.
When the household is in good hand, well maintained, and budgeted for, the man can relax. he can concentrate in earning money for the family. There is an old saying “Behind every successful man is a strong woman.” That is very, very true.

When the husband and the wife are working together as a team, there is nothing that they cannot resolve. The man, unencumbered by day to day squabbles and strife, can best work and plan on making more money to improve the family lifestyle.

The Main Rules

One of the characteristics of a traditional family is that there are rules associated with roles. Each role will have a set of rules associated with it.

Scene from THE STEPFORD WIVES.
Here is a scene from the Hollywood comedy titled “THE STEPFORD WIVES”. It makes a parody of the traditional family and ridicules it. In this scene the housewife gets all excited that the food that she purchases for the children is new and improved. In real life, most housewives would provide healthier selections of food for the children.

Roles with rules are fundamental to the operation of any organization. It’s much like in a hospital. The janitor cleans the floor. The nurse attends to the day to day needs of the patients, the doctor makes medical diagnoses, and the patient just lies on the bed and concentrates on getting well.

The rules for the “Man of the House” are…

  • Earn money.
  • Give all the money to the housewife to budget.
  • Represent the family in appearance, action, and behavior.
  • Repair and maintain things as needed.
  • Maintain and discipline the children as needed.
  • Assist in the education of the children as advised by the wife.
  • Enforce rules.
The housewife is a key and important part of the family.
The housewife will place limits on televisions, iphone, and electronic media. She will determine the amount of time allocated in recreation, chores, and study. She will be responsible of the care and behaviors of the children. It will not be automatic. It is learned, and it is up to the mother to teach this.

The rules for the “Housewife” are…

  • Budget the money.
  • Create numerous savings accounts.
  • Maintain and keep the household, clean, tidy and presentable.
  • Cook, and plan fine delicious and healthy meals.
  • Make sure that everyone is well attired with clean clothes.
  • Maintain a “warm hearth”; a household free of stress.
  • Represent the family in the community, church, and society.
  • Teach the children.
Girls playing bridge.
One of the most important roles of a family is to maintain a good standing in the community. Both the man and the woman cultivate this role. However, the woman makes and takes special care that the local organizations are represented and cultivated. That way the family gains social standing in the community that can aid and support the family in times of trouble and distress.
 God forbid I go into someplace like Harbor Freight with a big wad of cash.

 Yeah, give me a sec and I’ll back right up to the front door to  making loading all this crap I don’t need into the back of my rig  easier.

 This is why the Wifely Unit takes care of the money around here. I’m  horrible about that shit . That is why our bills get paid on time and  why I now actually have a killer credit score. 

-Busted Knuckles

Characteristics of a Traditionally Managed Family household

You might find the following characteristics within a traditional conservative household…

  • Savings to cover any emergency.
  • Cleaned and ironed clothes.
  • Toothbrushes replaced bi-monthly.
  • Trim and fit family members.
  • Formal sit-down meals.
  • Well tended yard.
  • “His” chair.
  • “Her” bathroom.
  • House shoes (slippers) beside the front door.
  • A pantry that is full. (A consequence of budgeting.)
  • Well behaved, and respectful, children.
  • Hours where the kitchen is “closed” from use.
  • A lack of dirty dishes. (The sink is always clean and spotless.)
  • Formal sit-down dinner meals.
  • Rules about smart-phone use in the house.
  • A fully stocked refrigerator.
A well stocked refrigerator.
One of the characteristics of a conservatively run traditional household is a well-stocked refrigerator. It is by far the easiest way to determine if the household is run progressively or in a traditional manner. A full stocked refrigerator is a consequence of budgeting. The housewife will buy healthy delicious fruits, meats and vegetables. Then use them to prepare very cost-effective meals. Progressively run households do not have the time, the inclination, or the routines to maintain this kind of quality life.

Some things that a Progressive Liberal family cannot do

If a family falls into the progressive liberal “trap”, often out of necessity, they will have a difficult time. They will be unable to enforce any type of traditional conservative family rules. It’s simple really. When people live a life without rules, they resent any rules when they are put in place. It’s human nature.

Thus, here are some things that progressive liberal families have to struggle with. Traditional conservative families won’t experience these problems.

The things that progressive liberal families have trouble with include…

  • Formal dinners at dinner time. Most progressive liberal families have a very difficult time with this. They find it difficult to set aside time and have difficulty in getting everyone to recognize the importance of communal dinners. When they do manage to set time aside, it is often short, and the experience becomes a mere formality. It is never a daily event.
  • Chores and roles. Progressive liberal families are disgusted by roles and greatly resent taking on any kind of responsibility. they have a very negative view of any kind of male or female role and avoid it where at all possible. As a result, the household tends to become cluttered, messy, dirty, and disheveled.
  • Saving Money. Most progressive liberal families have an understanding that what a person earns is theirs to do with they wish. Thus it is very difficult for them to save money. Especially saving money for family purposes.
  • Discipline. When children are raised in a progressive Liberal household; one where there are no rules, the children become unruly and directionless. They often develop emotional and behavioral issues. This becomes a burden to the rest of the family.

Some good links

I have numerous other posts specifically related to this subject. If you enjoyed this article, then you might find the other articles quite interesting and enlightening. Please click on any of the links. They will open up into another tab on your browser.

The two family types and how they work.
Link
Soups, Sandwiches and ice cold beer.
Pleasures

In addition, I have some thoughts on some “tools” that might be beneficial to the wife and husband…

Link
A womanly vanity

Here is a post that might help the housewife balance the family budget when the income source drops from a two-person income to that of a singular wage-earner…

The Rule of Eight

Conclusion

There are two ways of managing a family. You can manage either progressively, or traditionally. If you want to manage traditionally, you will need to take on a completely different mind-set. In the long run you will be healthier and happier, but the adjustment might be painful for some.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Why no High-Speed rail in the USA?
Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
The two family types and how they work.
Link
Soups, Sandwiches and ice cold beer.
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

Posts about the Changes in America

America is going through a period of change. Change is good… that is, after it occurs. Often however, there are large periods of discomfort as the period of adjustment takes place. Here are some posts that discuss this issue.

Parable about America
What is planned for American Conservatives - Part 2
What is going to happen to conservatives - Part 3.
What is planned for conservatives - part 4
What is in store for Conservatives - part 5
What is in store for conservatives - part 6
Civil War
The Warning Signs
r/K selection theory
Line in the sand
A second passport
Link
Make America Great Again.
What would the founders think?

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Things I wish I knew.
Link
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
How they get away with it
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons
A polarized world.
The Rule of Eight
Types of American conservatives.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein
Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.
The Lottery (Full Text) by Shirley Jackson
The Cold Equations (Full Text)
Farnham's Freehold (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Invisible Boy (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
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Invisible Boy (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury

Have you ever wondered how those witches and warlocks ever ended up with all those strange entities that lurk in the shadows around them? Well, perhaps Ray Bradbury can give us some insight into this. Eh?

Invisible Boy

She took the great iron spoon and the mummified frog and gave it a bash and made dust of it, and talked to the dust while she ground it in her stony fists quickly. Her beady gray bird-eyes nickered at the cabin. Each time she looked, a head in the small thin window ducked as if she’d fired off a shotgun.

“Charlie!” cried Old Lady. “You come outa there! I’m fixing a lizard magic to unlock that rusty door! You come out now and I won’t make the earth shake or the trees go up in fire or the sun set at high noon!”

The only sound was the warm mountain light on the high turpentine trees, a tufted squirrel cluttering around and around on a green-furred log, the ants moving in a fine brown line at Old Lady’s bare, blue-veined feet.

“You been starving in there two days, dam you!” she panted, chiming the spoon against a flat rock, causing the plump gray miracle bag to swing at her waist. Sweating sour, she rose and marched at the cabin, bearing the pulverized flesh. “Come out, now!” She flicked a pinch of powder inside the lock. “All right, I’ll come get you!” she wheezed.

She spun the knob with one walnut-coloured hand, first one way, then the other. “0 Lord,” she intoned, “fling this door wide!”

When nothing flung, she added yet another philter and held her breath. Her long blue untidy skirt rustled as she peered – into her bag of darkness to see if she had any scaly monsters there, any charm finer than the frog she’d killed months ago for such a crisis as this.

She heard Charlie breathing against the door. His folks had pranced off into some Ozark town early this week, leaving him, and he’d run almost six miles to Old Lady for company – she was by way of being an aunt or cousin or some such, and he didn’t mind her fashions.

But then, two days ago. Old Lady, having gotten used to the boy around, decided to keep him for convenient company. She pricked her thin shoulder bone, drew out three blood pearls, spat wet over her right elbow, tromped on a crunch-cricket, and at the same instant clawed her left hand at Charlie, crying, “My son you are, you are my son, for all eternity!”

Charlie, bounding like a startled hare, had crashed off into the bush, heading for home.

But Old Lady, skittering quick as a gingham lizard, cornered him in a dead end, and Charlie holed up in this old hermit’s cabin and wouldn’t come out, no matter how she whammed door, window, or knothole with amber-coloured fist or trounced her ritual fires, explaining to him that he was certainly her son now, all right.

“Charlie, you there?’ she asked, cutting holes in the door planks with her bright little slippery eyes.

“I’m all of me here,” he replied finally, very tired.

Maybe he would fall out on the ground any moment. She wrestled the knob hopefully. Perhaps a pinch too much frog powder had grated the lock wrong. She always overdid or underdid her miracles, she mused angrily, never doing them just exact. Devil take it!

“Charlie, I only wants someone to night-prattle to, someone to warm hands with at the fire. Someone to fetch kindling for me mornings, and fight off the spunks that come creeping of early fogs! I ain’t got no fetchings on you for myself, son, just for your company.” She smacked her lips. “Tell you what, Charles, you come out and I teach you things!”

“What things?” he suspicioned.

“Teach you how to buy cheap, sell high. Catch a snow weasel, cut off its head, carry it warm in your hind pocket. There!”

“Aw,” said Charlie.

She made haste. “Teach you to make yourself shot-proof. So if anyone bangs at you with a gun, nothing happens.”

When Charlie stayed silent, she gave him the secret in a high fluttering whisper. “Dig and stitch mouse-ear roots on Friday during full moon, and wear ‘em around your neck in a white silk.”

“You’re crazy,” Charlie said.

“Teach you how to stop blood or make animals stand frozen or make blind horses see, all them things I’ll teach you! Teach you to cure a swelled-up cow and unbewitch a goat. Show you how to make yourself invisible!”

“Oh,” said Charlie.

Old Lady’s heart beat like a Salvation tambourine. The knob turned from the other side.

“You,” said Charlie, “are funning me.”

“No, I’m not,” exclaimed Old Lady. “Oh, Charlie, why, I’ll make you like a window, see right through you. Why, child, you’ll be surprised!”

“Real invisible?” “Real invisible!”

“You won’t fetch onto me if I walk out?” “Won’t touch a bristle of you, son.” “Well,” he drawled reluctantly, “all right.”

The door opened. Charlie stood in his bare feet, head down, chin against chest. “Make me

invisible,” he said.

“First we got to catch us a bat,” said Old Lady. “Start lookin’!”

She gave him some jerky beef for his hunger and watched him climb a tree. He went high up and high up and it was nice seeing him there and it was nice having him here and all about after so many years alone with nothing to say good morning to but bird-droppings and silvery snail tracks.

Pretty soon a bat with a broken wing fluttered down out of the tree. Old Lady snatched it up, beating warm and shrieking between its porcelain white teeth, and Charlie dropped down after it, hand upon clenched hand, yelling.

That night, with the moon nibbling at the spiced pine cones. Old Lady extracted a long silver needle from under her wide blue dress. Gumming her excitement and secret anticipation, she sighted up the dead bat and held the cold needle steady-steady.

She had long ago realized that her miracles, despite all perspirations and salts and sulphurs, failed. But she had always dreamt that one day the miracles might start functioning, might spring up in crimson flowers and silver stars to prove that God had forgiven her for her pink body and her pink thoughts and her warm body and her warm thoughts as a young miss. But so far God had made no sign and said no word, but nobody knew this except Old Lady.

“Ready?” she asked Charlie, who crouched cross-kneed, wrapping his pretty legs in long goose- pimpled arms, his mouth open, making teeth. “Ready,” he whispered, shivering.

“There!” She plunged the needle deep in the bat’s right eye. “So!”

“Oh!” screamed Charlie, wadding up his face.

“Now I wrap it in gingham, and here, put it in your pocket, keep it there, bat and all. Go on!” He pocketed the charm.

“Charlie!” she shrieked fearfully. “Charlie, where are you? I can’t see you, child!”

“Here!” He jumped so the light ran in red streaks up his body. “I’m here. Old Lady!” He stared wildly at his arms, legs, chest, and toes. “I’m here!”

Her eyes looked as if they were watching a thousand fireflies crisscrossing each other in the wild night air.

“Charlie, oh, you went fast! Quick as a hummingbird! Oh, Charlie, come back to me!” “But I’m Acre!” he wailed.

“Where?”

“By the fire, the fire! And – and I can see myself. I’m not invisible at all!”

Old Lady rocked on her lean flanks. “Course you can see you! Every invisible person knows himself. Otherwise, how could you eat, walk, or get around places? Charlie, touch me. Touch me so I know you.”

Uneasily he put out a hand.

She pretended to jerk, startled, at his touch. “Ah!”

“You mean to say you can’t find me?” he asked. “Truly?” “Not the least half rump of you!”

She found a tree to stare at, and stared at it with shining eyes, careful not to glance at him.

“Why, I sure did a trick that time!” She sighed with wonder. “Whooeee. Quickest invisible I ever made! Charlie. Charlie, how you feel?”

“Like creek water – all stirred.” “You’ll settle.”

Then after a pause she added, “Well, what you going to do now, Charlie, since you’re invisible?”

All sorts of things shot through his brain, she could tell. Adventures stood up and danced like hell-fire in his eyes, and his mouth, just hanging, told what it meant to be a boy who imagined himself like the mountain winds. In a cold dream he said, “I’ll run across wheat fields, climb snow mountains, steal white chickens off’n farms. I’ll kick pink pigs when they ain’t looking. I’ll pinch pretty girls’ legs when they sleep, snap their garters in schoolrooms.” Charlie looked at Old Lady, and from the shiny tips of her eyes she saw something wicked shape his face. “And other things I’ll do, I’ll do, I will,” he said.

“Don’t try nothing on me,” warned Old Lady. “I’m brittle as spring ice and I don’t take handling.” Then: “What about your folks?”

“My folks?”

“You can’t fetch yourself home looking like that. Scare the inside ribbons out of them. Your mother’d faint straight back like timber falling. Think they want you about the house to stumble over and your ma have to call you every three minutes, even though you’re in the room next her elbow?”

Charlie had not considered it. He sort of simmered down and whispered out a little “Gosh” and felt of his long bones carefully.

“You’ll be mighty lonesome. People looking through you like a water glass, people knocking you aside because they didn’t reckon you to be underfoot. And women, Charlie, women -”

He swallowed. “What about women?”

“No woman will be giving you a second stare. And no woman wants to be kissed by a boy’s mouth they can’t even find!”

Charlie dug his bare toe in the soil contemplatively. He pouted. “Well, I’ll stay invisible, anyway, for a spell. I’ll have me some fun. I’ll just be pretty careful, is all. I’ll stay out from in front of wagons and horses and Pa. Pa shoots at the nariest sound.” Charlie blinked. “Why, with me invisible, someday Pa might just up and fill me with buckshot, thinkin’ I was a hill squirrel in the dooryard. Oh…”

Old Lady nodded at a tree. “That’s likely.”

“Well,” he decided slowly, “I’ll stay invisible for tonight, and tomorrow you can fix me back all whole again, Old Lady.”

“Now if that ain’t just like a critter, always wanting to be what he can’t be,” remarked Old Lady to a beetle on a log.

“What you mean?” said Charlie.

“Why,” she explained, “it was real hard work, fixing you up. It’ll take a little time for it to wear off. Like a coat of paint wears off, boy.”

“You!” he cried. “You did this to me! Now you make me back, you make me seeable!” “Hush,” she said. “It’ll wear off, a hand or a foot at a time.”

“How’ll it look, me around the hills with just one hand showing!” “Like a five-winged bird hopping on the stones and bramble.” “Or a foot showing!”

“Like a small pink rabbit jumping thicket.”

“Or my head Heating!”

“Like a hairy balloon at the carnival!” “How long before I’m whole?” he asked.

She deliberated that it might pretty well be an entire year.

He groaned. He began to sob and bite his lips and make fists. “You magicked me, you did this, you did this thing to me. Now I won’t be able to run home!”

She winked. “But you can stay here, child, stay on with me real comfort-like, and I’ll keep you fat and saucy.”

He flung it out: “You did this on purpose! You mean old hag, you want to keep me here!” He ran off through the shrubs on the instant.

“Charlie, come back!”

No answer but the pattern of his feet on the soft dark turf, and his wet choking cry which passed swiftly off and away.

She waited and then kindled herself a fire. “He’ll be back,” she whispered. And thinking inward on herself, she said, “And now I’ll have me my company through spring and into late summer. Then, when I’m tired of him and want a silence, I’ll send him home.”

Charlie returned noiselessly with the first gray of dawn, gliding over the rimed turf to where Old Lady sprawled like a bleached stick before the scattered ashes.

He sat on some creek pebbles and stared at her.

She didn’t dare look at him or beyond. He had made no sound, so how could she know he was anywhere about? She couldn’t.

He sat there, tear marks on his cheeks.

Pretending to be just waking – but she had found no sleep from one end of the night to the other – Old Lady stood up, grunting and yawning, and turned in a circle to the dawn.

“Charlie?”

Her eyes passed from pines to soil, to sky, to the far hills. She called out his name, over and

over again, and she felt like staring plumb straight at him, but she stopped herself. “Charlie? Oh, Charles!” she called, and heard the echoes say the very same.

He sat, beginning to grin a bit, suddenly, knowing he was close to her, yet she must feel alone. Perhaps he felt the growing of a secret power, perhaps he felt secure from the world, certainly he was pleased with his invisibility.

She said aloud, “Now where can that boy be? If he only made a noise so I could tell just where he is, maybe I’d fry him a breakfast.”

She prepared the morning victuals, irritated at his continuous quiet. She sizzled bacon on a hickory stick. “The smell of it will draw his nose,” she muttered.

While her back was turned he swiped all the frying bacon and devoured it hastily. She whirled, crying out, “Lord!”

She eyed the clearing suspiciously. “Charlie, that you?”

Charlie wiped his mouth clean on his wrists.

She trotted about the clearing, making like she was trying to locate him. Finally, with a clever thought, acting blind, she headed straight for him, groping. “Charlie, where are you?”

A lightning streak, he evaded her, bobbing, ducking.

It took all her will power not to give chase; but you can’t chase invisible boys, so she sat down, scowling, sputtering, and tried to fry more bacon. But every fresh strip she cut he would steal bubbling off the fire and run away far. Finally, cheeks burning, she cried, “I know where you are! Right there\ I hear you run!” She pointed to one side of him, not too accurate. He ran again. “Now you’re there!” she shouted. “There, and there!” pointing to all the places he was in the next five minutes. “I hear you press a grass blade, knock a flower, snap a twig. I got fine shell ears, delicate as roses. They can hear the stars moving!”

Silently he galloped off among the pines, Ms voice trailing back, “Can’t hear me when I’m set on a rock. I’ll just set!”

All day he sat on an observatory rock in the clear wind, motionless and sucking his tongue.

Old Lady gathered wood in the deep forest, feeling his eyes weaseling on her spine. She wanted to babble: “Oh, I see you, I see you! I was only fooling about invisible boys! You ‘re right there!” But she swallowed her gall and gummed it tight.

The following morning he did the spiteful thing. He began leaping from behind trees. He made toad-faces, frog-faces, spider-faces at her, clenching down his lips with his fingers, popping his raw eyes, pushing up his nostrils so you could peer in and see his brain thinking.

Once she dropped, her kindling. She pretended it was a blue jay startled her. He made a motion as if to strangle her.

She trembled a little.

He made another move as if to bang her shins and spit on her cheek. These motions she bore without a lid-flicker or a mouth-twitch.

He stuck out his tongue, making strange bad noises. He wiggled his loose ears so she wanted to laugh, and finally she did laugh and explained it away quickly by saying, “Sat on a salamander! Whew, how it poked!”

By high noon the whole madness boiled to a terrible peak.

For it was at that exact hour that Charlie came racing down the valley stark boy-naked! Old Lady nearly fell flat with shock!

“Charlie!” she almost cried.

Charlie raced naked up one side of a hill and naked down the other – naked as day, naked as the moon, raw as the sun and a newborn chick, his feet shimmering and rushing like the wings of a low-skimming hummingbird.

Old Lady’s tongue locked in her mouth. What could she say? Charlie, go dress? For shame? Stop that? Could she? Oh, Charlie, Charlie, God! Could she say that now? Well?

Upon the big rock, she witnessed him dancing up and down, naked as the day of his birth, stomping bare feet, smacking his hands on his knees and sucking in and out his white stomach like blowing and deflating a circus balloon.

She shut her eyes tight and prayed.

After three hours of this she pleaded, “Charlie, Charlie, come here! I got something to tell you!” Like a fallen leaf he came, dressed again, praise the Lord.

“Charlie,” she said, looking at the pine trees, “I see your right toe. There it is.” “You do?” he said.

“Yes,” she said very sadly. “There it is like a horny toad on the grass. And there, up there’s your

left ear hanging on the air like a pink butterfly.” Charlie danced. “I’m forming in, I’m forming in!” Old Lady nodded. “Here comes your ankle!” “Gimme both my feet!” ordered Charlie.

“You got ‘em.”

“How about my hands?”

“I see one crawling on your knee like a daddy long-legs.” “How about the other one?”

“It’s crawling too.” “I got a body?” “Shaping up fine.”

“I’ll need my head to go home. Old Lady.”

To go home, she thought wearily. “No!” she said, stubborn and angry. “No, you ain’t got no head. No head at all,” she cried. She’d leave that to the very last. “No head, no head,” she insisted.

“No head?” he wailed.

“Yes, oh my God, yes, yes, you got your blamed head!” she snapped, giving up. “Now fetch me back my bat with the needle in his eye!”

He flung it at her. “Haaaa-yoooo!” His yelling went all up the valley, and long after he had run toward home she heard his echoes, racing.

Then she plucked up her kindling with a great dry weariness and started back toward her shack, sighing, talking. And Charlie followed her all the way, really invisible now, so she couldn’t see him, just hear him, like a pine cone dropping or a deep underground stream trickling, or a squirrel clambering a bough; and over the fire at twilight she and Charlie sat, him so invisible, and her feeding him bacon he wouldn’t take, so she ate it herself, and then she fixed some magic and fell asleep with Charlie, made out of sticks and rags and pebbles, but still warm and her very own son, slumbering and nice in her shaking mother arms… and they talked about golden things in drowsy voices until dawn made the fire slowly, slowly wither out….

The End

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Why no High-Speed rail in the USA?
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Tomatos
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Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
The two family types and how they work.
Link
Soups, Sandwiches and ice cold beer.
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
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A womanly vanity
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

Posts about the Changes in America

America is going through a period of change. Change is good… that is, after it occurs. Often however, there are large periods of discomfort as the period of adjustment takes place. Here are some posts that discuss this issue.

Parable about America
What is planned for American Conservatives - Part 2
What is going to happen to conservatives - Part 3.
What is planned for conservatives - part 4
What is in store for Conservatives - part 5
What is in store for conservatives - part 6
Civil War
The Warning Signs
r/K selection theory
Line in the sand
A second passport
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Make America Great Again.
What would the founders think?

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Things I wish I knew.
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Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
How they get away with it
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
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1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons
A polarized world.
The Rule of Eight
Types of American conservatives.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

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Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
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The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein
Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.
The Lottery (Full Text) by Shirley Jackson
The Cold Equations (Full Text)
Farnham's Freehold (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein

Articles & Links

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