An English In Kentucky


















Friday April 20th 2012    Tim Candler

     There is a distinction between indoors and outdoors, between shelter and the total absence of shelter, and between Esau and Jacob.  Esau, the hairier of the twins, was probably an outdoor person, happy to emulate the elements, insects that hop and suck blood, the great panoply of disobedience and willfulness that exists beyond the porch. 

    Jacob, the younger twin, managed to sire through his wives and their handmaidens twelve sons who went on to become the patriarchs of the twelve tribes of Israel.  And I would argue that Jacob was an indoor person, he liked his Sheep skins hanging in a row, was good at putting up shelves, and insisted upon a well swept hearth.

    Fairly certain there are more learned  interpretations of this story of  jealousy that accrues to any assumption of birthright.  But my own preoccupation, has always been with Esau.  In the faraway, a gullible me, wanted Esau to bump off his sycophant brother, and this was especially the case when in the next chapter or two, Jacob gave just the one of his own twelve sons a fancy coat.

   Then I have to wonder why it is that the room where I sleep is so disorderly, it's considered beyond redemption and should be condemned.  But those parts of the Vegetable Garden over which I am Tyrant, if given to the analyst would likely be described as coming from the mind of one who is overly controlling and very, very dull. 

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