The Need for Narrative

(Written Tuesday, August 28, 2012) Yesterday, my mom and I met “at the pole” for a special outing to the city.  My daughter is interviewing for three jobs this week, and she solicited our help in choosing a professional dress suit.  We also decided to do some stocking up, as Hurricane Isaac is moving towards the Mississippi Gulf Coast and is expected to head inland on Wednesday. Lots of big stories!

Whenever Mom and I go anywhere together, we always meet “at the pole”.  The pole is situated dead center of the Wal-Mart parking lot and is located exactly half-way between our two homes.  If we both leave our homes at 1:00 p.m., we both arrive “at the pole” at 1:20 p.m. – almost within seconds of each other.  Once we arrive “at the pole”, Mom gets out of her car on the driver’s side and moves to the passenger’s side; then I take the driver’s seat, turn down her country music, and buckle up for the day’s journey.  We usually buy her groceries and gas, visit her doctors, go to her banks…and we always eat at her favorite restaurants. 

If Mom has a doctor’s appointment, we drive fifty miles of interstate – one way.  We start our trip with the same question, “So, what’s going on your way?”  If she asks the question first, I get to tell my stories.  If I ask the question first, she tells her stories.  Sometimes, we try to wait each other out to see who gets to be the storyteller first; but one of us always breaks.  We really keep the narrative going if I can offer a response to her stories with some better stories of my own, which we often refer to as one-uppers.  “I’ve got one better than that.  Just wait until I tell you what happened to me.  Well, you will never believe what I heard.”

There have been those rare occasions when we just didn’t have any stories to tell.  We still accomplished our to-do list, ran all our errands, and met our appointments; however, one very basic need was missed – our need for narrative.  Nothing is more disappointing than a visit from a relative with no real story to tell.  Occasionally, Mom says, “Well, I saw your brother yesterday, but he didn’t have much to allow…not too much going on.”  However, if she replies, “Your brother came to visit over the weekend and stayed three hours” – JACKPOT!  No one stays for three hours without some stories to tell!

We also love to re-report the latest state and national news or rehash a Lifetime movie.  This particular Monday, we talked for the entire return trip home about Brian Williams and the Rock Center report on Mormons.  So funny!  Neither one of us have ever met a single Mormon!  We discussed Prince Harry like he was an embarrassing relative who lives down the road.  And we both were convinced that the Honeymoon Killer is guilty; we just can’t believe he is from Alabama!

Of course, with all of Katie’s interviews and a hurricane headed towards Aimee and Matt, we almost missed our exit, which we have done more than once.  Even though I hate to admit it, my kids and I missed two exits during a trip home!  On another occasion, while engaged in narrative with my daughter, I missed an entire bypass and ended up in Slidell, Louisiana instead of Biloxi, Mississippi.   How we Southern women do NEED our narrative!

 My mom will celebrate her eightieth birthday on October 23^rd of this year, which is why my present need for narrative is so significant.  To most Wal-mart shoppers, our pole is nothing more than a well-lit parking space.  But for me, a meeting “at the pole” is the place where our stories begin.  I am made even more aware of this primal need when I think about the imminent absence of those meetings “at the pole”.

At times, I am tempted to feel a burden of responsibility to my mother – one that is not shared by my children, my siblings or their families.  Then, I am reminded of the most simple motions as we meet ~ seeing her wide smile, as I park.  Her questioning me about how she looks or where I got my outfit or (usually) why I am late.  At that moment, I realize that I am not merely fulfilling an obligation.  I am filling a void ~ a need within myself.  I need an ending narrative with my mom…I need to finish those last chapters of our story.  It doesn’t matter if we discuss the latest gadget – as seen on TV – that she wants to "try", the price of gas twenty years ago, or how to make pepper jelly.  Maybe she will give me an update on the health (surgeries, doctor visits, and vitals) of all her neighbors, and I will tell her about Riley’s dew claws.   She might remind me that Dad’s tobacco is not on the grocery list and that her medicine is ready at the pharmacy.  No matter how somber or silly, narrative is a need.

One of my favorite, favorite, favorite Southern writers is Reynolds Price, and he explains the need for narrative in this way:  The strangest thing about narrative is that it seems to be our second most profound need as human creatures.  We have to have food; we have to have nourishment and water.  And after that, apparently, we have to have this interchange which consists of human beings telling stories to one another.  Love ~ all those things that people list as needs ~ can be done without.  We know that.  People live without them for decades.  But food and stories, food and narration really do seem absently built into our natures.

                                                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TODAY'S UPDATE:  Since I wrote that journal entry, Hurricane Isaac rained havoc on the South, my daughter received a great job offer with another on the table, and my son leased a one-bedroom apartment in Biloxi.  On Labor Day, Mom and I met "at the pole" for a day-trip to the coast.  We missed our exit in Hattiesburg, so we had to call the kids for directions back to Highway 49 from Lumberton on Interstate 59.  My oldest daughter asked me, "How in world did y'all get way over there?"  

I replied, "We were talking about our funeral arrangements, and we missed the exit." LOL!

Dianne  ; )