Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Back When Dad Loved Living




Age has a strange way of creeping up on you....

There were those times when I looked forward to the weekends.....
To see things that I couldn't see during the work week.....
To smell those fragrances that can only be "observed" at country fairs....

These days, I see weekends as never-ending "projects" of mowing the lawn.....
Pulling the weeds....and making the yard presentable for those who will never see it....

I long for the Fall of the Year....when the weeds die back, the grass dies back..
And Saturday afternoons are full of college football, chicken wings and chips & salsa.

At what point in my life did I forget the days of climbing in the truck and heading out to points beyond....just because?

I don't know.

But I'm trying to find those days and memories to be included in my new-found, empty life.

Stay in bed or go out? I don't know........

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

When I was a kid and went home after school with one of my friends to play for the first time, I could always tell what the visit was going to be like as soon as I saw their yard. (We didn't have lawns in Claiborne county)

Dirt was a good sign. That meant a lot of interaction with brothers, sisters and cousins and the likelyhood of some sort of wheeled action - bicycles, dirt bikes or the ultimate... a go-cart! Dogs, cats and chickens were a given at a house with no grass. Most of the time I never went in their house till it was time for supper, and that didn't last long. Those friends were the toughest, most athletic and quickest thinkers. Not the smartest, but the best wit per knowledge ratio. It was a free feeling but there was little opportunity to get by with much. A Pap, Dad, uncle Buster or a tattle-tale cousin was never far-off and that was the down side of no-grass. The rules were few and harshly enforced. I'm sure the champions of zero-tolerance most surely grew-up in no-grass homes.

The well trimmed and appointed yard is best described in one word. Predictable.

The least encountered yard was the unruly yard. Each was different and they all had their own story to tell. Illness, divorce, disability, over-worked and the most rare... the socially indifferent. As a kid it was like getting to experiment with a prespective that was skewed considerablly from my own predictable world view. Scary, troubling and fascinating all at the same time. Without meaning to, I think I have built a life that is growing this kind of yard. Embrace the weed.