2003-08-06 - 9:26 p.m.
I AM NOT FRODO
I have never been a Tolkien fan. Much as I may be attracted to men who like Tolkien, Piers Anthony, and other fantasy, I have never been attracted to such things myself. But, in making my life plans, I did not reckon on heredity�s little joke: men who like such things tend to have children who like such things. Family harmony has required me to listen to a recording of �Watership Down� on a trip. But never in my wildest dreams did I expect that one of my children would take to calling me �Frodo.�
I am not particularly Tolkien knowledgeable although group spirit has gotten me to the first two installments of the movie �Lord of the Rings.� (It will get me to the last one too. I cannot just leave the story now.) I remain aloof enough that I have some trouble with the names of the characters. What I call them seems to reflect an obsession with food and not with Middle Earth. Much to my children�s amusement, I can only remember what the names sound like. Speaking of �Ear of Corn,� �Leg o�Lamb,� and �Gimlet,� produces gales of laughter and emphasizes just how much I am not a true Tolkien fan. But I know who Frodo is and, even if it meant I still had long, dark lashes like Elijah Wood, I must insist that I am not Frodo.
I am not a Hobbit. True, I am diminutive (or, as my six foot two husband would have it, vertically challenged.) True, if not for great willpower, I would be looking to eat all the time. But my feet are small and they are not hairy. In fact, my husband refers to my toes as �stubby� (and I never thought I would find that endearing.)
I also would like to point out that I can put my ring on without turning evil. True, I wear my wedding ring on a chain around my neck. But I do that because my fingers swell with the heat. If I had knuckles bigger than my finger, I might be able to make my ring bigger. But, because of those tapered fingers with genteel knuckle, a bigger ring would slip off my finger whenever my fingers contracted as they sometimes do in air-conditioning.
In any event, when I do wear my ring, it does not harm my soul. I wore my ring constantly until four or five years ago and I am still charming. More important, I still am generally good and kind. Wearing my wedding ring took no toll on me that the marriage itself has not or that having children in my house has not. If I am horrible, look to them, not to the ring.
And I certainly am not going on any trek to return my ring to the place it came from. First, flights to New York City are more than I am willing to pay and I am not sure that the jeweler�s shop is still open. Second, doing so would split up a matched set. I have grown accustomed to socks that lose their mates but socks just lie around waiting for a match that never occurs�at least until I throw them out or turn them into puppets. I do not know what rings without mates do. Besides, I have no illusions that returning my wedding ring to New York City will solve any of the problems of the world, let alone restore peace and harmony to the Middle West.
So, at the risk of repeating myself, let me say again that I am NOT Frodo. And now that we have that straight, I think I�ll retire to the Shire.
LAST YEAR: In San Antonio�no entry
TWO YEARS AGO: Justice, Justice
IN CASE YOU MISSED THEM:
Needing God
Under the Stairs
Zit
Justice and Peace
Enemy of the People, Part II
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Copyright 2006 by Ellen |
