If You Don’t Want My Peaches, Don’t Shake My Tree

Got peaches?

By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

It was from the mouth of Stacey Lee’s Aunt Ruby that I first heard this phrase in college.  Aunt Ruby didn’t play.  She was a motorcycle-riding badass who was at least in her late sixties – likely her seventies – dating a turtle farmer when I first met her.  She donned red go-go boots purchased at one of the many garage sales she frequented, and her contribution to holiday meals was a Jello-based concoction that everyone avoided.

We loved Aunt Ruby.  She was our spirit animal.  She said what was on her mind at all times, and even in my early twenties, I sincerely appreciated that.  Fast forward three decades, and I more than appreciate that:  I tend to live by her mantra, especially now.

The last 14 months of the pariah pandemic has taken my very last nerve and severed it.  Not stepped on it accidentally or tugged on it a bit, but cut off like a moldy piece of cheese.  You know how when the cheese is still there and smaller, but the infected area has been trashed?  It’s still somewhat good but maybe not as good – and whole – as it used to be.  That’s the exact state of my nerves – still there, but not really enough to mess with.

I guess I should be frazzled to the core, but I’m not.  If anything, I’m liberated.  Yes, the simplest things are still ridiculously difficult, people are still trying and life in general has become incredibly taxing at times.  I’ve adjusted.  I have a somewhat laissez-faire attitude about many things.  I drive my car in my slippers and tend to wear them wherever I’m going at times.  I wear varying degrees of make-up on any given day, and hair clips are my best friend.  If my outfit doesn’t match perfectly, I don’t care.  I will don leopard print yoga pants and brightly colored shirts with high heels and a Louis Vuitton and go dang near anywhere.  Lisa Ann calls it my Walmart outfits.  I absolutely could not care less.

So why is my state of somewhat disarray not bothering me?  Yes, it could actually be that I no longer have nerves to get on.  But the truth is I channel my inner Aunt Ruby and often.  The solution is quite simple:  Don’t hold it in like Spanx when it needs to be set free. There’s a reason that word relates to a whippin’.  Don’t spank yourself and hold in the horror when folks get crazy.  Let it out – on or to whoever needs it.  It’s sincerely liberating to call it like you see it.  It not only will make you feel better, it will cause your repeat offenders to think twice before acting a fool.

Now I’m not saying you have to get ugly because ugly begets ugly.  I’m relatively certain that’s Biblical.  But if the ugly starts, finish it.  Read it like a cheap dime store novel – quick and dirty.  It all boils down to one simple rule to live by: If you don’t want my peaches, don’t shake my tree.

See y’all next week – on the porch!


Follow Patti Parish-Kaminski on Facebook at facebook.com/patti.parishkaminski and on Instagram at instagram.com/ontheporchwithpatti/.