Angle of Repose

My favorite books is Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner. It is the story of an elderly, disabled professor who is researching the lives of his grandparents in order to understand their relationship. His grandmother is an educated easterner, while his grandfather is a mining engineer who dreams of pioneering the West. Their story is one of conflict and compromise that ultimately settles into a situation they can both live with. At times heartbreaking, it is a realistic portrayal of the challenges of raising a family, earning a living, and loving a spouse.

When I think of the "angle of repose," I imagine a pile of loose rocks and sticks tumbling down a sandstone hillside. The rocks may roll or ricochet, the sticks break in two or somersault end over end. Perhaps they run over each other or get caught in a crack or on a ledge. But eventually, the debris reaches a point of rest. All of the individual pieces are positioned in a mosaic of equilibrium.

Does this angle even exist in human relationships? Or are we in a constant state of flux? How do we work from within the debris to create a comfortable repose?

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Just a funny side note: For some reason, my kids and I were talking about what we want to have in our coffins when we are buried. I mentioned that I would like a good book in case I get bored. "Better tell us which one you want, Mom!" Without even thinking about what I was saying, I told them, "The Angle of Repose." No pun intended.