Moriah's cousin was 20, and she was the epitome of a strong woman. She had long hair that coiled tightly into raven ringlets, she had a nose ring, she wore Birkenstocks and she reeked of body odor and patchouli... stenches of power!
Moriah had once told me that she went to college in a mysterious place called Berkeley, where she told me that she was going to fight a regressive attack on affirmative action. I had no idea what a regression was, nor did I know how one fought such a thing... but I desperately wanted to watch Moriah's cousin take on the powers that dared to tangle with her passions.
She took us down to the beach, and aggressively handed out our respective sacks to store our catch. It was midnight, and the beach was crowded with tourists itching to begin the grunion run. Moriah's cousin sneered at the crowds, and hurried us along the dark beach. She took our flashlights, and made us walk in the dark. Splash. Slosh. Crunch. I didn't know whether I was stepping on seaweed, soaked litter, or the tails of these little creatures. All I knew was that I was in 6th grade, and I'd just started shaving my legs so the salt water stung my rashy calves. We walked for ages, and Moriah's cousin allowed us to turn on our flashlights.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the thousands of flopping creatures that were ashore to spawn. Moriah's cousin began to seize up the fish with precision and authority. Moriah and I, however, alternated between squealing "ewwwwwwww" and handling a fish before letting it slip through our fingers.
Moriah's cousin had had enough.
In one sweeping motion she seized Moriah and I by the shoulders, with narrowed eyes and a jaw clenched with fury. Her short grubby nails dug into my shoulder, and she said slowly:
"Don't squeal or giggle..."
We held our breath, and nodded.
"EVERRRR!!!!" Moriah's cousin bellowed into the crashing waves. She grabbed a slimy grunion with her claw-like hand and held it to our faces.
"Smell itttttt!!!"
Completely frozen in terror, I obediently smelled the fish. The abrasive material of the burlap bag was brushing against my raw legs, and I only remember feeling physical fear, irritation, and paralysis. Eventually she released us, and we both bit our lips and ravaged the sea with our grunion skills.
Thus, Moriah's cousin instilled a value in me... that real women neither squealed nor giggled. However, having reflected upon this (with the filter of a dramatic 6th grader)... I can honestly say that if I met Moriah's cousin today, I'd tell her how much I disliked her... but shoot, I respected her! Then, I'd shake her hand...*
No comments:
Post a Comment