“Jinx,” America

Written 6/9/12

     We're in Jenks, America. Here in OK, they call it that because it's the only city in the U.S. with such a name. More specifically, we're in the "House of Knick-knacks." This title comes from the owner's daughter, whose daughter brought me here because she wanted to share with me the magic of her childhood. 


     Collections abound in this ranch house that sits on four acres of rolling plain, the birthplace of my friend's enviable imagination. Rabbits of all kinds peek from the walls and surfaces. They are sleepy and fat, playful and lithe. Some open as glass containers or rest as babies on leafy beds of porcelain. Others sniff at miniature girls' feet, which are positioned uniformly against the mirror on the dresser in this bedroom and which number up to thirty. Depending on the angle of my head, resting here on the queen, one girl's face changes like a holograph. Now, she's bored; now, she's prepared to care. 


     Built in the 70s by a couple whose boy met a tragic end and who consequently put it up for sale, this house has seen forty years of near-happiness. The architecture is unique and sprawling. Slanted cedar beams loom over three bathrooms and three bedrooms, one of which has stairs, an outside balcony, and green carpet that brushes high against the insides of my toes. 


     The barn outside has been home to chickens and sheep that were pets more than they were livestock. Their names have rung over fields that house oversized crawdads, on which crows frequently feast. (The crows, too, have names: Harold and Henry, or some such. They also survive on not-so-healthy diets of leftover human meals). We walk over the land and spy blue-gray pincers still clutching to blades of grass. We remove the dead heads of the marigolds in the garden. Their green perfume lingers on my fingertips, and I think of how they'll flourish throughout the summer. Wisteria, hollyhocks, periwinkles, tomatoes, and corn already thrive everywhere. 


     There's wistful grief over the loss of a couple dogs and a beloved bunny - all killed by cars and canines, respectively. Sitting on the swing, we see two black horses in the distance. Their tails swish, and I muse on the endurance of a "love almost at first sight." This sometimes tumultuous marriage culminates today in solid affection. They embrace before us like some of the girls on the dresser and brazenly defy cynicism. This House of Knick-knacks exists now in a sort of "Neverland," where love of life keeps it.