Knowing the answer isn't no

I often will see my dad when I look in the mirror or hear his words when I open my mouth to say something. Lately my mom has been showing her presence as well – not in a ghostly way, but rather in a manner of the things she did or said.

For instance, she recognized that kids like to play with garbage. I don’t mean crawling around inside a dumpster or sliding around on old banana peels. I’m talking about using a discarded shoebox to put treasures in (and then take them out - repeatedly), a large cardboard tube for cars to travel through (tunnel) or on top of (bridge). Styrofoam packing becomes a boat in the bathtub. Even my wife has adopted some of my mother’s ways, which means I’m not the only one saving stuff for the grandsons.

My mother also practiced a style of negotiation that left no room for disagreement. If she wanted you to set the table, she would simply say,

“I’ll let you set the table.” There was no question – therefore there could be no declination, nor any disagreement. She created a scenario in which an action needed to take place, and then she granted someone the privilege to carry out the action. She was quite crafty, my mom.

Frequently, I was given permission (without seeking it) to carry in the groceries, take out the garbage, shovel the driveway and mow the lawn. In all my years at home, I never developed an acceptable reply or retort to my mother’s declarations. I may, however, get a chance with my two-year old grandson.

Micah has inherited his great-grandmother’s negotiation skills and will often use them to his advantage. Recently, he and I were in the same room together. Micah seemed content playing on the floor by himself pushing his cars around; I was happily working on a crossword puzzle, while watching and listening to him play. For five minutes.

Instead of asking if I wanted to play, which would have allowed me to say, “Yes, in a few minutes” or “No, not right now,” he stated in melodic tones with syllables added to select words for affect, “You could play with me on the floor Pa. You could.” He had taken away any opportunity for disagreement. Seeing or hearing no immediate response he repeated himself with added clarity. “You could play cars with me right now Pa. You could.” He was right; I could – so I told him so.

Micah had laid out a scenario in which both he and I could envision what he had described. I was left with no choice but to agree with him and to play with him – on the floor.

Several minutes later Jennifer, Micah’s mother and my daughter, entered the room and saw that I was on the floor instead of at the table working on my crossword puzzle.

“I’m sorry Dad, I’m sure you would rather be working on your crossword instead of being on the floor,” she said.

“It’s okay,” I responded. “How much longer will he be two years old?”

We both knew the answer:  Not long enough for me to waste time doing crosswords when I could be on the floor playing with him. I could see Mom smiling.

It's For Me

I don’t like being first when joining a party or picking up on the latest trend, yet I try to stay current with the latest technology.  However, I may be one of the last ones to have been part of a videophone call. I guess it seemed unnecessary and perhaps a little too invasive. I don’t mind talking on the phone, but I would rather not have to answer for my private wardrobe and grooming choices.

My kids have tried to engage me in video conversing on the computer – but it seems awkward. I never know where I should be looking or if I’m talking loud enough (or too loud).

This week my friend, Tim, called me from trend-setting California. Initially, I thought I had screwed up my phone as the screen was showing me answering the phone. Not exactly newsworthy, but that’s not what I expected from my phone when answering a call. All of a sudden there was Tim sitting in his truck driving down the L.A. freeway talking to me on the phone and occasionally turning it to show me the traffic on the other side of the windshield.

At first I was taken aback and started to consider how I looked and such, but then I remembered I was at work and if I didn’t care before why should it matter now. Of course, I was talking too loud, so I thought perhaps I should go explain to Kathy what all the fuss was about. I walked over to her desk and showed her what I was doing. This created an awkward situation by having her say “Hello,” to Tim and him to her. I learned later that this technology was not new to her –she had already done this before. It was like asking her if she knew who Britney Spears is.

As we progress to this full frontal phone full time, there will be no more asking, “Who’s this? I can’t recall the name, but the face rings a bell.”  When I was younger and my dad would call home he could never tell if it was my older sister or my mom on the other end of the line. I have a similar problem discerning my daughter’s voice from my wife’s – but the videophone will save me from embarrassing myself in the future. Maybe.

There will be no hiding the body language. Your annoyance and anger will be front and center for all to see.  Working a crossword puzzle while listening to the other person prattle on will no longer be acceptable.

There doesn’t seem to be any going back though. Eventually, we’ll be like George and Jane Jetson talking to our video monitor. Someday I will tell my grandchildren that I remember rotary phones (one per household), and dialing (really dialing) just four numbers (4416, 2747) to call my friends. My wife, Rhonda, remembers having multiple families share a line and having to take turns when using the phone. In that case, you wanted to be the first on the party line.

August Afternoon

Sunday afternoons in August run from hectic to serene. Today, at least for the moment, is peaceful and quiet. Even the wind is taking it easy with no hint of its movement in the treetops.

It is so quiet outside I have to listen closely for any sounds. I hear the crickets, cicadas and a lone bird singing. On the other side of the room a fly buzzes at a screen either wanting to escape or enter; I am too lazy to find out which. From somewhere far off comes the faint roar of a jet. It’s a perfect day for a nap, yet I won’t lie down and let sleep overtake me.

Napping, it seems to me at least, is a conscience decision to give in and quit (at least for a little while). I fight sleep during the day as I feel I have so much to do that I cannot afford to take a nap. Because Sundays are a day of rest, I avoid unpleasant physical work when possible, choosing instead to write something I hope will be worth reading and read something from my pile of books and papers. Often, I fall asleep at my desk or in a chair. It’s nothing I’m proud of, nor do I seek it – it just happens. While writing, when I am searching my mind for the next phrase or word, I will relax to the point of nodding off. When I am reading, my eyes will close involuntarily, and I lose my place and a few minutes of the day.

A butterfly bounces past the window followed by a breeze – the butterfly effect I wonder? Today is a good day to notice the small things that normally escape my attention. Often I get caught up in the rush of the day and miss the beauty that is right in front of me.

For instance, yesterday (Saturday) I was up early as I had so much to do. I cut and hauled tree limbs and branches most of the day from the yard to the brush pile and not once did I marvel at the shape of the leaves or the grain of the wood. I mowed without noticing the sweet smell of fresh cut grass. I sprayed for weeds without regard to their strength and tenacity.

Summer days are long, but the summer time is short. We have more time during the day to take it all in, but we have few days in which to do so. Inversely, the winter days are short, but the winter drags.

On many winter nights I find serenity within the words of a good book and the warmth of the wood stove. Often it is because it is too cold and dark to be outside, and there is not that much to do out there anyway that I find myself inside.

But it’s not cold and dark yet. It’s true that the summer is busy and it goes by too fast, maybe it’s because we make it so. Sunday afternoons in August: what a wonderful time to enjoy life.

What I learned at the Fair

During the five days at the Scott County Fair I saw a lot of money exchange hands; parking was paid for, food was bought, music was played, trucks pulled, tractors chugged, and cars crashed. Through it all people smiled and enjoyed themselves.

I spent many hours at the fair last week and came away with many conclusions: Ice cream can be substituted for almost any meal and it tastes better in the summer. People need to be encouraged and appreciated. Three hours of sleep a night is really not enough. When you go to the carnival, take a child with you and go on the kiddie rides.

Many of the kiddie rides are designed to accommodate children of all ages – even those approaching sixty-years old. I didn’t test this theory, but it seems you were required to have a child with you to get a seat, but then you rode for free.

I was lucky enough to ride the helicopters. Micah, my two-year old grandson, and I stood patiently in line with as we waited for our turn. After Micah handed the attendant our ticket he ran to the first one – a bright little number – purple with pink highlights. It had two bucket seats in the front where it could be operated from either bucket by a team of pilots for especially long rides. There was bench seat in the back to accommodate larger passengers and their cargo.

From our initial, albeit quick, inspection, everything seemed to be in order. Fortunately, the ride attendant was an honest man and suggested another bird. He took me aside so as to not alarm the other flyers and told me in hushed tones that this particular eggbeater did not go up and down but only maintained its present altitude.  I thanked him, and then we moved on to an identically outfitted green model.

I lifted Micah into the left seat. From there he could assume the role of captain of this ship and have a clear view of the curious crowd that was gathering to see us off. I buckled him as he checked the controls. Climbing into the back seat, I was reminded that many of these older models have cramped quarters.

As we waited for permission from the tower, you could feel the excitement build. As Micah had other duties to attend to as we prepared for takeoff, I took it upon myself to find his parents, brother and uncle on the other of the fence.

Soon we were airborne and making our way around the flight path in a tight circle. Alternating between ascending and descending, we passed the happy on-lookers more than once. With each pass I announced from the back seat when Mommy and Daddy were coming up, and with the aide of a pointed finger Micah was able to find them and wave. He would laugh and say, “I have my hand out the window,” as he gripped the wheel with his other hand.

Soon we landed, and I was somehow able to extricate myself from the chopper and get back on solid ground. When I reflect upon my five days at the fair, I can tell you with certainty that money is indeed necessary, but it is not required to be happy; I rode for free that day.

Economics

We had a bad spell of hot whether this past week. So hot, in fact, that we actually turned the air-conditioning on in the house. I know that’s not really big news, as I know some people who don’t have any AC in the house, while others close their windows the first day of summer and crank down the thermostat until fall arrives. But on the farm, flipping the switch is a measured move, not one to be taken lightly. Analyzing the use of air conditioning in my house is an example in the study of economics.

The American Economic Association states “Economics can actually be defined a few different ways: It’s the study of scarcity, the study of how people use resources, or the study of decision-making.”

In the first area of study – scarcity, I will touch on electricity. If I turn on the air conditioning in the house our electrical bill goes up. The local electrical cooperative doesn’t give electricity away – they charge for it by the kilowatt-hour. I don’t actually know what that means other than if I use electricity I must pay for it, as it is scarce (try and find it during a blackout) and cost money to produce. My dad used to ask, “Who’s paying the light bill around here?” when we left a light on in an unattended room. Nowadays, lights are probably a minor player in domestic electrical consumption.

The second area of study is the use of resources. My wife, Rhonda, and I both like having the windows open in the house. It doesn’t cost us anything to let the breeze blow through the screens and through the house. The sounds of the night can be rather soothing for snoozing: crickets chirping, trucks on the highway below the hill, and the distant train horn are all quite peaceful. This is all well and good when the temperature is in the “good sleeping weather” range.

The final area is how we make the decision of using the air-conditioner. I prefer cooler temperatures to warm and cold, instead of hot. Rhonda is the opposite. When I want to turn “the air” on she resists because “it’s summer and it’s nice.” Anything above the mid-seventies, and I begin to become uncomfortable and start removing clothing. I know there is only so far a person can go in that direction before the police are summoned for a violation of public decency.

However, if I push the issue and insist on flipping the switch, Rhonda will reach for a sweatshirt because she’s cold. I see nothing wrong with that, but she finds the layered look out-of-season for July. You see, Rhonda can tolerate temperatures in the mid-eighties before she gets warm.

So this past week the air-conditioner was turned on and the house was cooled. But normally, for lesser temperatures we negotiate and compromise; we turn the fans on and open the windows. During such nights when I am warm, I lay wide-awake on top of the sheets listening to the crickets chirp and think this hot weather has to brake soon – like maybe September or October.