Let’s say that your mother died this summer and so far you’ve been doing a pretty good job of keeping your emotions buried.

Let’s say that you have been going around doing the paperwork things that follow an event like this and you have carried on for the most part in business-like conduct while others were weeping and remembering things they shared with your mother.

Let’s say that there is one item that represents to you all that you must leave behind forever. Of all the possessions to be sorted and divided, distributed and discarded, this one thing has become the vessel of your grief.

Let’s say that it was a small concrete urn that arrived on the scene when you were 8 years old. It was the first luxury item you can remember and it was a thing to be wondered at – a completely frivolous decorative item. It remained the only such non-utilitarian item for many years thereafter.

Let’s say that the urn was painted many different colors over the decades and in the family photos, you can see it bright pink behind the childhood wading pool. There it is behind you all white now as you stand in the backyard in your Confirmation robe. It has been green twice, then finally a soft pale yellow. There has been paint applied in colors you didn’t remember until you look down through the peeling layers and suddenly remember “Ah, avocado green - I was in high school then.” Or “Grey. It stayed put during the flood and when we washed away the mud, you could see the grey paint on it.”

Let’s say that you were planning to take the urn in all its peeling, shabby glory to your own home to preserve the connection to what you have lost and to remember as much as you can.

Then let’s say that you drive up to your childhood home and when you get to the back end of the driveway, you see this:

The goddam Deer Painter has sanded down the urn, spray painted it center-stripe yellow, placed it on a matching cinder block and filled it full of plastic flowers.

Let’s say that you haven’t really cried too much since your mother died but now you have totally lost it about the cement urn that carried the layers of your life and now they're gone forever.

Comments

[pops]

First - there looks to be many loose bricks available for throwing in front of the urn. Since you're no longer having to fix the breaks on Saturday...

Not that I'm suggesting anything.

The second I die I do not care where I am going and I'm not going until I get just one answer to ONE burning question.

When you lose a parent why do other people have to carry on with their agendas on your parents' behalf REGARDLESS of what you think AND WITHOUT ASKING?

[Jen]

I dunno, I'd be kind of tempted to brain the painter in the head with the color-coordinated cinderblock.

[Karan]

It seems likely she didn't see the true value in the big concrete urn....not that I'm defending her by any stretch. What the heck is wrong with her? Did she not get the message when you told her that the deer was plenty of improvement and that the blue rock was pure stupid? Maybe she is nuts...maybe she thinks these are things that would have pleased your mother. At the least, I think she's proven herself clueless.

I say, get some big old man type (only because it's a generational intimidation thing) to stomp over and tell her to beat feet outta your yard and to keep her nasty yard art painting self away from your property and then if you can part with the blue rock....do what I said before.

[jadedju]

I can't help fantasizing about law suits and the like, but I also can't help but suspect that it's not a terrible hting to start to genuinely grieve your loss. Also, if only she could wake up one morning and find her whole house that color.

[Reecie]

I have the almost unresistable urge to drive up and bitchslap this woman into orbit.

Although that wouldn't do anything to restore your urn. For that I'm very, very sorry. I understand how precious it was.

And all I can say is she's foolish and ignorant and has no idea what she's done. Not that that's any excuse. I suspect that if I were in your shoes, I wouldn't be anywhere near up to dealing with this woman, but perhaps Mr. Sami could have a talk with her?

[Kathy]

Oh dear. I'm sorry. It looks like it might be huntin' season for deer painters!

[TPB, Esq.]

Hmm. You could always have a "shark" have words with her. ...

In truth, though, this rises to the level of harassment. It may be time to talk to the police. She's vandalizing your property and doing so to prove that she can go on your property whenever she wants. I'm sure that gives you a feeling that you are being threatened.

[ToxicLabRat]

Oh, Suzette,
I feel just awful. Your words were truly touching and then I saw the photo and couldn't believe what she did.
Did you have a talk with her???
But,when all is said and done, you still have the urn that has been with you through all your years of growth. I guess that is saying something.
Although, the layered paint would have made it more special....

[daughter]

oh man mom. i dont care if she is a crazy old lady, we have absolutely no reason to put up with her anymore. you should go cut a square out of her lawn.
why does she keep painting things? is this like a big glittery technicolor memorial to grandma in the backyard? maybe shes trying to keep other people from buying the house.

[The Prop]

Maybe you should take all the garbage from the rental unit and place it in her yard, with instructions to paint *it* all yellow.

[schmed]

I know how you feel - for me it was a pair of the Old Man's shoes that fit well enough for me to wear. But they were inexpensive Florsheims and wore out in a few months. As useless and worthless as they were, I had the hardest time throwing them away. It was, however, quite cathartic.

I'm also appalled at her flagrant lack of respect for the property of others. What goes on on the other side of her?

You may need to consider building a case for a restraining order, because it may come to that.

[Lenka]

Oh, my. The deer and the Blue Rock were bad enough, but the Urn....*sigh* Objects symbolizing eras and becoming physical "containers" for emotions? I hear you, S.

I would say that painting your Urn road-stripe yellow qualifies as a bona fide act of war, and retaliatory midnight sod-cutting is entirely justified. Of course, as a longer-term assault, you could always surreptitiously plant kudzu under her porch if the local climate is willing...{heh, heh}.

See http://www.yahoolavista.com/kudzu/houses.html to see what a little kudzu can do given a few weeks' head start.

[Becky S]

So sorry about the urn, Suzette. The blue rock was silly and was, after all, just a rock. But for the Deer Painter to usurp random possessions, put them on cinderblocks, and paint them is beyond the pale.

[GrumpyBunny]

Oh, Cripes, Suzette! Seriously. That is really terrible. We could hire a hitman. Or at least a someone with a really great sander to sand down her painted stuff.

On a lighter note, that color would have matched the insides of my kitchen cupboards when we bought our house...

[Karan]

I have a new idea....get a bunch of those really mean looking yard gnomes then give each one a can of spray paint then line them up all facing her house......and then plant a sign on the lawn declaring your mom's house an anti-paint zone.

[Mary Beth]

On the other hand, a single thin wire with just a little juice applied just in front of those menacing gnomes would probably deter the mad-painter. Just enough for a little repetitive training jingle.

Or a really really big dog.

[pam]

Let's say we all chip in and buy you a tazer and the next time the well-meaning yet psychotic neighbor tries to spray paint your memories away you give her a blast. Bet she'd learn quick. Even very old dogs can be trained.

I'm so sorry. :(

[tina]

I am still in for the 3 a.m. painting of the lions that guard her house. I am thinking a nice lime green with bright pink trim..add a mustache to each and we have "outsider" art. A self appreciative desecration of the neighborly kind.

Just say the word and I shall be there with my cans of spray paint.

I must admit I truly love the gnome idea. We can take that NO SHIT sign we bought in Houston and temporarily change it to "NO PAINT" (and maybe add "under penalty of death")

[stacey]

do it! do all of these things! or just the nasty letter from a lawyer. i like that, too. most of all, you should give her a copy of this post, letting her know EXACTLY what she took from you.

[lee]

hugs xxxxx