Poem of the Fortnight: Imagining Being Rich in River Oaks

We went to Houston the weekend before last, partly to do the River Oaks Garden Club annual azalea trail. We stayed with dear friends who live in a fabulous mid-Century modern house, ate out, saw a Picasso exhibit at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts, watched movies on TV, and spent a lot of time talking and catching up. With the time change to daylight savings, we slept late and hung out in our pj’s till about 3 p.m. Sunday–very relaxing, but we never made it to the azalea trail. We tried to catch the end on our way out of town, but it was too late so we just drove around River Oaks. I wrote this on the way home, and of course took it to my trusty critiquing group before posting.

Imagining Being Rich in River Oaks

Instead of seeing myself luxuriating in opulence,

serving Champagne to guests

even more elegant than I…

 

I wonder who walks the perimeter looking for fences needing fixing,

calls the plumber when there’s a leak

or the tree surgeon when branches break,

or takes care of the other thousand things that can go wrong.

Do you have a full-time housekeeper,

A cook?

How many gardeners,

groundskeepers,

pool guys?

Who hires them all?

 

How do you decide how often to redecorate, remodel or relocate?

 

Who hires the interior designer,

contractor, painters, carpenters?

Who makes all the decisions?

 

Who watches it all

while you are at your villa

on the Costa del Sol

or skiing in St. Moritz?

 

And all that money—who manages it?

Somebody has to pay the house staff,

yard men,

lighting designer,

security guard.

 

It must not be easy to be very rich.

I wonder if it’s learned,

or is it better to be born to it,

marry it?

Would I choose this life?

 

I see maintenance.

Being a slug I didn't get any pictures. This is from YourHoustonNews.com

Being a slug I didn’t get any pictures. This is from YourHoustonNews.com

 

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