Along with my parents owning a summer house in Ogunquit, ME, my grandparents lived in Meredith, NH right on Lake Winnipesaukee. Yeah, spoiled, I know. It's funny how you don't truly appreciate it then, but what I would do to have either of those houses now.
Anyway, my brother was down this weekend and we were reminiscing about stuff and the bat story came up. Love the bat story and it will be forever imprinted in my mind like a photograph. There were lots of bats in the woods and sometimes they would fly down the fireplace into the house. I remember when I was really young, adults screaming and my grandmother knifing a bat like it was a serial killer. Maybe this is why I don't like scary movies?
Anyway, one summer, my brother and I went and visited the lake house for a weekend. He and I were in adjoining bedrooms and my grandparents were at the other end of the house. I heard something like a bird and woke up and ran and got my brother. (We were in HS or college at this point) He probably yelled a few expletives at me and told me to leave, but I made him get up. We went into the living room and realized that said bird was a bat. I don't think we went in to wake up my grandparents, but the picture I have in my mind is them standing there in nightgown and boxers with wife beater t-shirt with broom and knife in hand. My grandmother had some sort of head covering on and was yelling at me to put one on because (evidently) bats like blond hair.
The bat ended up dieing (being bludgeoned) in one of the bedrooms and tossed outside. I wish I had a photo to share with you and to hang up on my wall. The best way to describe my grandparents that night is think of the American Gothic Farmer's picture and imagine them
in their nightclothes,
with headgear,
and a bat hanging from the pitchfork.
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1 comment:
I think it was jockeys! Oh, dear.
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