Thursday was such a beautiful day ... cloudy, windy, raining ... yes, all that ... but it wasn’t freezing rain, and the only swirling snow we saw had been in the forecast the night before.
So we hopped into The Little Red Car and headed out on the longest journey I’ve taken ... by car, with me at the wheel ... in years.
We drove all the way to Indianapolis, taking care to take the back roads all the way ... and some even farther back than that.
Little Red seemed to enjoy the trip ... especially those parts where we went slowly through small towns ... taking care to observe all the rules of the road, as though we were being watched carefully by someone in one of those specially marked ... or unmarked ... cars, of which there seemed to be more of an abundance than usual.
The journey ... and it was a journey, believe me ... took a little over three hours, thanks, in part, to my navigation system (all in my head ... none of this fancy GPS stuff for me).
I had done some map study a few days before ... had it all, as I said, in my head (tons of unused memory in there) ... and things went pretty well ... slowly, but pretty well ... until we were almost there.
I turned off on the correct street, though it looked like an alley with parking on one side, mind you ... and I didn’t know it would only go a block in our direction before ending abruptly.
As we sat at the STOP sign studying our options, we noted that our street resumed a few hundred feet to our RIGHT. The street we had to cross to get to it, however, was a one-way street to our LEFT.
So we took the scenic route ... finally got back to OUR street ... enjoyed it until ... about two blocks later ... it ended again.
I had no idea where I was then ... so I turned left ... again ... and drove on, as though I knew exactly where I was.
Then, quite suddenly, I discovered I had stumbled ... er, steered ... back onto OUR street ... now a lovely four-lane thoroughfare on which traffic was proceeding in a very orderly fashion ... with the usual one or two exceptions, of course.
To make a long story short, we arrived at our destination on the same day that we set out ... much to everyone’s surprise ... enjoyed the traditional humongous meal ... conversations ... the joy of watching the children playing together.
I even managed to sneak away, find an unoccupied upstairs bed, and spend half an hour or so in deep meditation while the festivities continued below.
The trip home? Oh, we took the Interstate all the way home ... took about a couple of hours, instead of three. I felt Little Red was relaxed now, rested after that long, arduous drive over, and seemed to be enjoying sharing the highway with all those other, much bigger vehicles which went sizzling past in a cloud of spray.
Me? I wasn’t nearly as relaxed as Little Red seemed to be. I thought someone was going to have to pry my hands loose from the steering wheel when we got home ... but I managed that with almost no assistance at all.
And today (Friday)? Oh, I’m getting some feeling back in my fingers, and I expect ... in a few days or so ... to have them all straightened out again ... and flexing ... or almost so.
-S&G-
TODAY’S QUOTE - “Santa Claus has the right idea. Visit people only once a year.” - Victor Borge (courtesy of WALT, Ohio)
-S&G-
“I FOUND OUT one thing yesterday,” writes LOREE, Kansas ... “After delivering the meals on wheels with my brother-in-law, we drove back to Winfield and went to the Co-Op, where I bought enough chicken feed to run me until NEXT year!”
How much did you buy, Loree?
“ ... I bought 800 pounds ... which equates to sixteen 50-pound sacks. I was able to match, sack for sack, my brother-in-law’s efforts, and still had energy, air, and was raring to go. Why, I could have unloaded ALL of it myself, had he not insisted on helping me.”
At this point, folks, it helps to know that Loree has a Pacemaker ... and is ... “feeling better than I have felt for over two months. It is a great feeling, once again, to want to WORK!”
But FIFTY pounds? It hasn’t been very long since I was struggling to unload a FORTY-pound bag of something (might even have been just THIRTY) from the trunk of my car. And where was Professor Squigglee when I needed him? Hiding in the library, probably.
-S&G-
NOTE from HELEN, Florida ... enduring a slow and painful recovery from major fractures ... includes a photo of a house that’s really decked out for Christmas ... has all kinds of lights and figures ... probably has appropriate music going. And next door there’s a smaller house with a single set of lights which spells out “DITTO.”
-S&G-
NOTE from CATHY, Illinois ... mentions that she won a turkey on a radio program, for naming 10 tunes that the host played ... all of them “Golden Oldies.”
Oh, how I envy someone who can do that ... I have trouble coming up with the title when I hear ONE tune that sounds familiar. I can’t imagine coming up with TEN!
-S&G-
NOTE from JOHN, Florida ... says he’s looking forward to next February 4, when he will be 90 ... because that figure looks more impressive in a newspaper item than a mere 89.
Hey, let’s all celebrate that milestone, John ... then shoot for the perfect 100.
-S&G-
TODAY’S POEM - Autumn is one of my favorite seasons ... largely because I tire of blazing hot weather ... thank you very much ... and start looking forward to cooler nights ... good sleeping weather ... the fall colors, which I always enjoy ... the sight of leaves sifting gently to the earth ... the sounds and the feel of them as I go kicking through on my daily walk.
This poem was written on a bus, of all places. We were humming along northward, somewhere in Ohio.
The highway seemed to be an endless ribbon unspooling toward us ... but there on both sides ... oh, there was something to watch! The autumn trees were at their absolute peak, as though they were expecting us ... expecting "company."
And there we were.
I was struck by how the colors seemed to be parting, then closing behind us ... something like the parting of the Red Sea in those old movies.
Naturally, I dug out a scrap of paper and began writing ... and here's the result:
AUTUMN CROSSING
A sea of color
rages ahead,
parting for us
with the soft
hum of miles
falling away,
gently washing
back into place,
cloaking all
traces of our
safe crossing.
© 1997
(Originally published in The American Scholar)
-S&G-
COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like.
Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to
rbrimm@peoplepc.com
... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)
-S&G-
Oh, and if you’d like to see what’s up with my other ... DAILY blog ... here’s a link to it:
http://rbrimm.blogspot.com/
Thanks for paying a visit.
-S&G-
UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!
-S&G-
© 2009
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