Idolatrous of this white farmhouseThere's a part of me that wishes I was one of those grandchildren, that I did want to settle there, in the country. I mean, I do want to settle in the country, but as much as I'm looking forward to us building our own house, there's a part of me that wishes I had some old family enclave to inherit--not just because it's cheaper but because of the sense of place, the fragments of family history in the house: Hall refers to a number of these explicitly, the tokens that have come down of family members over generations.
since I was ten, in my ninth decade
I daydream that it burns to the ground
3. so that nobody will empty it.
My children comfort me with their care,
bringing five grandchildren to visit,
but none will settle in the country.
What it comes down to, I suppose, is that I'm nostalgic for something that I never had but of which I can understand the appeal. I have a similar reaction to Stephen Kellogg's song "Thirteen," in which he looks back on the innocence of being 13 years old and, in essence, a naive player. Meeting all these girls over the summer, these girls "French-kissing boys into men," these brief but intense relationships that are destined to be over even before the summer is.
That was never my experience in any way, shape, or form, but when I listen to the song, I find myself getting nostalgic for that experience.
Isn't that a funny thing, though, looking back wistfully on something you never had? As if there isn't enough wist for the life you did have...
Here, for your listening pleasure, is Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers live with "Thirteen":