One hard thing about this year, for whatever reason, has been weird class stuff going on. Or, I don’t know. That may be too strong a word for it. I guess I just notice more and more that I, say, could use $100 to replace my wheel cover or the front of my oven and I kind of feel proud because I could put $100 toward either of those things, if I had to.
But there’s always something else a little more necessary in the house, so I haven’t gotten around to it.
I’m constantly aware of how big a change that is from the days when there’d be no money for anything, necessary or not.
But lately there just seems to be a lot of stuff where the people I’m talking about talk about $100 the way I talk about $10.
And sometimes it makes me feel like I’m among strangers whose customs I don’t understand.
The dog is on thirty days of anti-worm medication, which we were supposed to give him in cheese. It’s been ten days, I think. And you know, a dog can’t eat that much cheese, even a big fat dog.
So, in an effort to unconstipate him, we’ve switched to sandwich meat.
He also seemed to think that it would be nice if I rubbed his nose while he napped and farted.
And who among us does not want that from the people we love?
So, I read the one biography of Isaac Franklin. It was written back in the 30s and purports to be scholarly. But it’s the kind of book where, whenever the guy quotes someone in the 1830s being viscerally disgusted upon seeing what Franklin was up to, he has some footnote about how that person is obviously ignorant and we all these days understand that people are complex. And even this biographer, smoother-overer of all things unseemly about Franklin, says he had “mulatto mistresses” at Fairview, up in Gallatin, before he married Adelicia Hayes.
He had literal sex slaves and it was so well-known that even the guy who’s devoted himself to shining up Franklin’s reputation can’t leave it unmentioned.
Here’s a list of things we have thanks to Isaac Franklin’s money: Belmont University, the University of the South, Beersheeba Springs, Angola Penitentiary, Gallatin Road, Metro Center (yes, a whole fucking neighborhood because Franklin liked horse racing, which made it reasonable to try to keep that part of town from flooding); the Fairview subdivision, Ledbelly… I mean, maybe you could argue we have the Blues and thus most forms of American music because of Franklin, since he moved so many people into Mississippi in bondage.