Friday, September 27, 2013

Good-bye Summer


There are people in my family who find it hard to say good-bye to summer. Summer is their preferred time of year; they’ve even offered to trade my summer birthday for theirs, so they can have their birthday party pool side instead of inside. I don’t share their enthusiasm. In fact, you’ll find me inside when it’s hot, humid, buggy, sunny, sweaty, and uncomfortable outside.

But when obligation calls, I will work outside and sweat like a swine with little complaint (I complain some, but not too much). I accept those conditions; but to stand outside minding my own business and feel perspiration run down my back toward my beltline is not something I like.  When the sun is beating down I will run for cover, seeking even shadows for shade to escape its death rays.

But as the temperature cools and the bugs leave on a south bound bus, I find myself wanting to be outside.  I love wearing my Eddie Bauer zip-up hooded sweatshirt (a birthday gift from my daughter, Jennifer), watching the leaves get whipped up by the wind, and even “seeing my breath,” on a snappy morning.  I think I may be in the minority, however.

Someone once said to me “I hate fall – I know what’s coming . . . winter.”  That’s as true in June as it is in October.  The only time winter is not coming is when it’s here. You may as well say “I hate middle-age – I know what’s coming. . . death.”

Many people seem to treasure their spring and summer more than their fall and winter. As Don Henley sang “…there’s just so many summers…and just so many springs.”  Of course, the same is true for fall and winter; there are only so many of each.  Each season holds it own charm, its own place.

We run outside in the summer without a jacket. A sport coat can be comfortably worn in the fall, satisfying both form and function. In the winter, the ground is covered with beautiful snow. Then spring comes, and we throw off the heavy blanket of winter.

So now, officially, fall is here (or autumn if you prefer). Soon I can enjoy a Saturday afternoon of guilt-free reading with not too many outside chores calling me. Soon I can swing the splitting maul in cool weather, fill the wood box, light the stove and grab a book.

I have a friend who seems to enjoy every season. Ron Beckman of Jordan is happy whether he’s sitting in a dugout coaching baseball, holding the down marker on the chain-gang for a home football game or watching a basketball game from the bleachers.  But his happiness is not exclusively dependent on sports.  Recently he reminded me of a night seven-years ago where he and I stood outside around a fire and drank hot apple cider while we waited for his wife and her friends to give my house the once-over as part of a holiday home tour.  “It was one of the best times I’ve had,” he said. I agreed,we had enjoyed ourselves on that chilly December night.

So good-bye summer, see you next year; hello autumn, I know what’s coming . . . winter and another gift from Jennifer – the birth of my first grandchild.

 

 

 

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Rain


It’s been dry as of late. The corn has curled and the grass has browned from being baked too long, although today the skies hint of rain. If it does rain I am to rush outside to gather laundry. I dislike those kinds of tasks, as it becomes so easy to forget under what conditions a response is required: If A, then B. So really the task becomes a flow chart with not only one thing to remember, but two or more.

Plus, I have questions. Does a light sprinkle qualify? How about a passing shower or even that beautiful anomaly, the sun shower? 

And that was only part of the instructions left by the lady of the house as she went to town to run some errands.  I prefer she not write the list down, as I want to keep my memory sharp. There was one other thing she wanted me to do and it will be revealed as this writing exercise continues or if it rains. I, of course, have my own list I should attend to.   

I have an old truck that should be prepped to sell.  Although I am not entirely sure I want to sell it. “Pipes” has been a favorite truck of our family, so named because of the dual exhaust which produces a low rumble. All four of us enjoyed driving it, and it was put it in the ditch at one time or another by at least three of us.  The fourth one isn’t saying. 

If I get Pipes out of the barn I can move my brother, Dan’s, VW Bug into the next stage of restoration: more serious consideration. I bought and paid for it, but it will always be Dan’s VW.

Of course, not being mechanically inclined presents certain obstacles. When you are not inclined, well, you are not inclined to do certain things as some activities are favored over others, and the bug just hasn’t hit me yet. 

I would have got an earlier start to my list checking, but I spent a couple hours at the Renaissance Festival with my son, Nathan. Living so close to the grounds gives me the opportunity to pop in for a quick visit about every third or fourth year.  

This time I noticed it has become difficult to tell the players from the visitors, as the period clothing is worn by both sides of the ticket.  Even though my wardrobe has articles from two different centuries, I was immediately recognized as an outsider. This of course, brought on invitations to touch a parrot (a poor model of the winged creature presented as a stuffed animal perched on a shoulder), play chess or buy some orchards for a deer lady. Did she mean a doe or did I hear her wrong?

Another thing I noticed is that most everyone from that period of time was neither shy nor modest; plus they had the same flair for the dramatic. In addition to the numerous scheduled stage shows there were wandering jesters, jugglers tossed about the grounds and side shows on both sides of the wood chip lane. Indeed the world, or at least those acres, is a stage and everyone plays.  

I left feeling fortunate to live during this modern age and to be less than a day’s ride from the festival. I shudder to think what it would be like to be without indoor plumbing and prescription lenses.  

There it is – shudder/shutter. I was supposed to take down the shutters for painting if it didn’t rain.  But now it’s raining; time to bring in the laundry.

Monday, September 16, 2013

Hello again


Yeah, I know it’s been a while.  Let’s just agree it’s my fault and move on, okay? I hope things are well with you.  Much has happened that you may not be aware of.  Let’s start with where we left off.  

As you may remember I tried again for political office.  It was close, but I came in second in a field of two.  Oh well, since I’m not in charge of these things they have to be accepted.  I don’t want you to think I have been dwelling on this for the past year.  I haven’t. It’s only been ten months. 

But much can happen in five-sixths of a year (some fractions for you math fans). I’m not sure if you heard or not, but it seems I am going to be a grandfather sometime in January-February (of next year I think).  Good grief. When did I get old enough for that?  
 
I like the idea just fine if you must know, but babies still make me uncomfortable. Other than to give their head a good whiff (I like the way that end of the baby smells), I never really know what to do with them.

If you don’t hold them just right they’re easily dropped, and nobody likes that.  So unless there’s a couch nearby I prefer to stand back and watch. But even when I am surrounded by a lot of upholstered cushions babies move around sometimes, which can lead to crying. Then I start looking for a qualified person (a female over the age of twelve) to hand them off to, and the quicker the better. 

So I’ll keep you posted on all that stuff. On a sadder note my older brother, Dan, passed away in June. He had lived in Iowa for most of the last forty years so distance separated us. Letters and phone calls don’t make up for a personal visit and there wasn’t enough of that. But now I find that I would gladly accept any correspondence with him, even a post on Facebook that I disagree with.   

Dan had several hundred record albums that he had started buying in the late 60’s. His son offered them to me a few weeks after the funeral so I raced down to Iowa with great anticipation of acquiring Old Dan’s records. Unfortunately time and cats had badly damaged the jackets so I left Iowa unhappy one more time. I’m working on cleaning the vinyl to keep my memory of Dan with me even if it’s only at 33 1/3 (more fractions).

It’s hot today, especially for September – almost 90. I have a phone that tells me the current weather for my location.  Depending upon what room I am in the house I can pretend I live in one of five different addresses as the phone has me in Carver, Chaska, Jordan, Prior Lake or Shakopee. The house has more empty rooms for me to wonder around in as both kids are out on their own now. 

My wife, Rhonda, thinks it may be a good idea to do extend my wondering beyond the house and see some of the country with her as we pull a travel trailer behind us. I like traveling, but I hate camping; I don’t care where I go, I care where I stay. But I won’t go so far as to lose touch with you.  I’ll write soon – promise.