Another evening given from God and this one is exceptionally well designed. We linger over supper outside in the backyard and discuss the hot weather and barn swallows (Do they really feed on flying insects only? No, says the family ornithologist) and then conversation drifts towards Ronald Reagan returning from Heaven and leading us to 12 percent annual returns.
Meanwhile the sun slowly sets and insect repellant candles come out and slices of pound cake and nobody feels an urge to get up and tackle life. I’m normally quiet and humble but give me a warm summer evening, a little candle light and I am tempted to make startling confessions---“I admit it (heavy gut wrenching sob). I started writing a newspaper column as a way of gaining attention! It was never about truth and inspiration. No, no, no, it was all about Me! I just needed attention! God forgive me!”--- but I realize as host it is my duty to conclude the meal and so I say “Well, umm, yep…”, stand up, stretch and start gathering plates. One can sit too long and one can say too much.
I’ve had to talk a lot this afternoon which is challenging. I’m not social like my wife who carries conversation easily like a gull drifting in flight. She is away for a weekend at the beach. My guest left some time ago, he has an early morning flight and now I am alone, the house is unusually quiet. Nobody in a slinky black dress has burst into my study, pressed her lips to mine and begged me to run away with her to Casablanca and live on love. There simply isn’t a lot of bursting or kissing going on right now only the steady tap, tap, tap of keys and the random squeak of my chair. The boxer at my feet just stretched, yawned and broke wind. That pretty much sums up the moment.
I don’t like to travel anymore so I stayed home. My need to see beautiful ocean sunrises, gather seashells and take long walks is at an all time low.
I’ve been reminded to water the tomato plants which is a labor intensive job I am not good at but I did it this morning so I guess I’m still young enough to learn how to work.
If your mother is alive it means you are still young. My mother has a firm grip on 79 and shelters me from mortality. Whenever I need to feel young and safe again I drive to my mother’s and discuss family and recipes and life. She tells me I have a lot of life ahead of me yet. My mirror tells me different.
I’ve never loved summer as much as now which I guess is a factor of age---the less time you have the more you appreciate it and partly because a short drive from my house the Democrats are going to hold their national convention in a few months. Now I know how the villagers felt when the Visigoths convened just outside the village. You hide your daughters and brace yourself for big crowds. I’ve been trying to think of a sign I could put out in front of the convention hall but “Aw Heck!” is all I’ve got right now.
I’ve been writing about Democrats, Visigoths and Ronald Reagan and suddenly remember I have left the water hose running for the tomato plants. They are probably drowned by now. I may need to call a tomato whisperer or a scuba diver. Talk to you later. I should know better. Politics and real work have never mixed.
No comments:
Post a Comment