The lessons in my life have come in many ways. I’ve definitely learned that experience is not always the kindest of teachers, but she’s truly one of the most effective. One of the smartest things Solomon ever did was ask for wisdom. As my brother-in-law, Travis Duby and me, we asked for other things, like guns and good horses. Wisdom was nowhere on the menu. No better example of that exists than when he and I boiled an elk head together. During elk season, the year my father-in-law, Bernard Duby passed away, Travis had stumbled upon an elk that had been killed by a cougar. The rack on the elk was impressive, so Travis gathered the head and brought it home with him. Travis had killed some nice bulls in his day, so for him to drag a rotting head in out of the brush meant that it was a dandy, and we all agreed. It wasn’t long after Travis had spent his last elk season with his dad, that we lost Bernard to cancer. While Mandi and Patti (my mother-in-law) were in town, one evening shortly afterward, Travis and I came up with a plan to put the perfect touch on Bernard’s memorial service. Bernard had been a hunter his entire life, so paying tribute to him by using that elk head in a flower arrangement would be perfect. Our plan was hatched. Travis had been doing some European mounts and was just getting it figured out. Since then, he has mastered the art, but in those days of his artistic incubation, trial and error was the rule of the hour. The skull was still fairly fresh, but time was definitely of the essence. We decided to boil the head in order to get it clean of any and all flesh, brains, hide, etc. Fortunately, Patti had just purchased a beautiful set of stainless steel cookware. One piece happened to be what Travis and I referred to as a cauldron. The head fit nicely inside of the shiny, steel pot, and we decided that would be the perfect crucible for our project. We wrapped the antlers in towels we had pulled out of the cupboard in the bathroom, filled the pot to the rim with water, and proceeded to bring the liquid to a rolling boil. Once the water began its bubbling display, bits and pieces of the already rotten viscera and flesh began to float around in the foam moving about so violently in the pot. Soon, the boiling water turned into a light tan gelatin. The house’s aroma began to morph, as well. Standing in a room that had once smelled of those wonderful kitchen fragrances, Travis and I began to take in the stench of a rotten, boiling cranium and its nasty attaches. Although the project seemed to be going well, I began to grow concerned. I looked at Travis. “Um, I wonder if this is really a good idea. That looks pretty nasty, and it’s stinking the house up a little. Do you think your mom will notice?” Travis answered to the affirmative. He agreed with me that our choice of venue may have been chosen in haste. We briefly discussed our options and decided to go light a fire outside. It took some scrubbing to get that brand new, stainless steel pot cleaned. Bits of flesh and foam had burned onto the stovetop. The house reeked like a decomposing body. A change of locale may have been a decision we had made too late. Like two teenagers trying to clean up after a forbidden party, we scrubbed and tried to hide our tracks. We went out to Bernard’s shop, lit up a torch and cut a fifty-five gallon barrel down. We welded a platform out of t-posts, and we lit up a fire that would boil twenty gallons of water. By one in the morning, the head was clean and devoid of any hangers on. We had succeeded. On one front. On the other front, however, we had failed. Patti was, shall we understate, disappointed in our use of her pot. She was appalled at the odiferous peppering of her house. The nastiness of that rotten head had permeated and settled into the curtains, the carpet, the furniture, and anything else that would let it in. We were in trouble. To top it off, the skull wouldn’t turn white. It had had that flesh dried onto it for too long, so it’s hue was more of a dirty tan. Not quite pretty enough. So, we tied a gunnysack around the actual skull and merely used the antlers for the flower display. Our lessons were manifold. One: don’t boil a head in your mother-in-law’s brand new stainless steel pot. Two: don’t do it in her kitchen, either. Three: if you do either one or two, immediately find someone to blame. It’s kind of like in life when we do something stupid that leaves a pretty bad smell in our clothes, furniture and everything else. We try to blame it on someone else, when it’s obvious it was us. The best thing to do is admit it and offer a new pot and a candle. Maybe not in life, though. In life, we merely need to own up to the mistake, ask for forgivness, and turn away from the kitchen and toward the correct project outside. “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength…”—Isaiah 30:15
Posted on: Mon, 07 Apr 2014 04:45:07 +0000
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