Sunday, chilly damp and still beautiful.

When summer decided to go it just split, man. No lengthy goodbyes, 90 degrees one day, the next it was 79 the next it was 68 and today it will be low 6os. Rain has moved in and it is starting to feel a little like Noah’s flood. The world has become a very violent place, and the similarities are there.  But according to the weather app Tuesday is supposed to be sunny and in the seventies. So, maybe the world is safe, or maybe the weather app is wrong. I’m hoping the rain stops and the world is safe. Of course, I don’t think there is another flood predicted in the New Testament which is encouraging. But, it is still wet, chilly and a little depressing. 

So, we move onto the Cornhuskers, who lost last night. It was a heartbreaking game, at least for the new coaching staff, and most definitely for the players. But, there were so many good things, so much to be happy about. And, I am still the worst kind of fan, a fan that always holds out hope. With the starting quarterback on the sideline with an injury and a walk-on backup I thought they would pull it out. Close but no cigars, missed it by that much, whatever you want to say. It was the first game and the first game jitters were on display several times, in very bad ways, and it was against a very good team, so I am excited for next week, when Troy comes to Lincoln. 

Also, fall brings the coming of November, and that means NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month, I think. I have decided to completely rework the novel I had been working on, making it more compressed, add some central characters, throw in some punch, push, pull and shove, a seer, and some much needed dialogue. For those of you keeping score at home this makes the fourth novel of my adult life, all of them incomplete, but all of them in progress, sort of. I only work on one at a time, but they will all be finished, someday, if I live long enough. Every attempt gives me more insight, more practice, a much firmer grip, on what I need to do. There is still the small problem of doing it, but like the Huskers I am just a few plays away. And, like I feel about the Huskers, I will break through.

So, happy September, I hope you find your place in a cooler world, except for my friends in the Southern Hemisphere who have the seasons in opposition, I hope you find the warmth and sunshine comforting and peaceful. Today is going to be a good day, even if it is a little damp. Don’t forget to head over to The Wild Word and pick your favorite song.

Labor Day, Hello, My Old Friend.

Labor Day, the birth of Winter, or the death of Summer, or just a Monday holiday. Maybe all three for some people, maybe just another damned Monday for others. Not everybody gets to take the day off and get paid. I am one of the lucky ones, one of the lucky millions probably.

I'm not sure who decided to make the first Monday in September a paid day off, or why. And, I don't really care. It's a day off, with pay, that I didn't have to ask for. It doesn't carry the emotional obligations of Memorial Day, the patriotic fervor of July 4th, or the spiritual demands of Thanksgiving. At least I don't think it does. I could probably look it up, but why bother?

There are several hummingbirds that have breakfast with me on the weekends. I sit on our patio drinking my coffee and they come along and drink their nectar. When they finish they buzz off to somewhere. It seemed, for a brief time I should try to find out more about them, but decided against it. I enjoy them, I probably couldn't enjoy them anymore than I do. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, after all. I just snap their photos, say good morning and they move on. I know everything I need to know about some things, Labor Day is one of them.

Not knowing much makes it makes it easier to assume that someone, due to laziness or lack of funds, or even a minor speech impediment shortened it from Don't Labor Day. Because I don't really labor all that much, I might mow the lawn, and trim the hedges, but that's about as laborious as it gets, and if I can keep my wife distracted I will probably fall short of that modest goal.

Normally Labor Day ushers in  more civilized weather, less heat, humidity, fewer unbearable, sweaty, sticky days. You might need a jacket, oh blessed be the mornings you need to layer. It always leads to trouble, though, when the morning is cool, and the afternoon warm, a migration of coats to work, a pile on the shelf by the printer, loved and cherished early in the day, forgotten on the way home. Life on the edge, the struggle is real.

And there is always Swapper's Day, in Johnstown, an event not to be missed. A trip through time and space, at least times and spaces I have occupied. 8 track tapes, fishing equipment, vendors everywhere, selling everything, within fairly wide limits. It is crowded, hectic, cramped, and noisy. The ground is uneven and hilly, and the whole thing is difficult.  But, just going is fun. For $5.00 you can take a trip through another world. Elon Musk can't compete with that.

So, hold on, Labor Day is coming to save us. I will see you there. If we make it.

Today's song o' happiness comes from a different time and space, where Funk was King.  Don't forget to vote in the Life Explained Happiness Poll, coming soon. If anybody knows how to create a poll in Facebook, please send me the instructions.

Summer, Old and New, the Battle Rages On.

Weekend in the summer, the yard versus me. An ancient battle, the clash of the titans, one blade of grass at a time. An epic struggle, crab grass lies just beneath the surface, waiting to pounce, and devour the neighborhood, dandelions pop up, almost too quick to notice, forget watching grass grow, try turning around after mowing and seeing the yellow, smiling faces spring from the leafy base, and laugh at you.

But, this year there is something more ominous, something odd, almost eerie. A bare patch, about 8 feet long and three feet wide where nothing grows. Grass, dandelions, clover crawl right to the edge and stop. It taunts me, defying explanation, it is unnatural, unreal, and odd. If I sat up a game camera I’m convinced it would prove animals won’t walk over the ground. Domesticated cats and dogs that prowl the neighborhood, and the wildlife, from squirrels, skunks, raccoons, even deer that travel from the park on the north side to the streambed and small farms that lie just to the south all would give the narrow patch of dead ground a wide birth. But, I’m not sure what else it would capture. Do wildlife cameras record an evil malevolence that is slowly awakening?

The Past

Maybe this neighborhood was built on an ancient Indian mound. Maybe it was a battle site, or hunting ground, maybe it was a miscarriage of justice in the name of progress.

There were rumors that the Memorial Tournament in Northwestern Columbus was cursed because Muirfield Golf Course was built too near the tomb of Leatherlips and the traffic and noise bothered him. Every year, like clockwork it would rain on the final round. To placate the ghost, end the curse, and finish the tournament on time they moved the tournament to the weekend following Memorial Day. This change seemed to work, because the tournament hardly ever gets rained out, Memorial Day weekend is much more meteorologically  pleasant and they didn’t even have to change the name to the “Weekend After Memorial Tournament.” Who knew a Wyandot Chief would be such a stickler for a government created holidays?

Southwestern Ohio and West Virginia are filled with tales of curses, hauntings and ghostly retribution from abuses of settlers, and the violence of local tribes spilling into the afterlife (I will have a full report with video after Our Amazing Vacation). Ohio is built on ancient forests, filled with dark spirits, whenever my wife and I get off the freeway, and take a state route I am reminded of the words of Marlow in Heart of Darkness “this, also, has been one of the dark places on Earth.” 

Meets The Present

When we walk through the old forests, and the rolling hills you can almost feel the old world trying to break through. Ancient powers straining just below the vale of modern civilizaztion. If you are lucky you can catch a glimpse of an old building, or power line or telegraph pole, slowly being consumed, torn down by the old world. We are only visitors here, and you see it in the casual disregard nature has for our powers of construction. 

I look at that bare patch and I see the power of history coming to reclaim its heritage. My wife, who is not as atuned to the old ways, the old worlds, sees a low spot that has been drowned too often (the curse of Leatherlips all over). Today, I will spread some topsoil, grass seed, fertilizer and water faithfully. Maybe it will work, maybe not. I will let you know. In fact, I might take pictures, kind of work in progress mixed with before and after, and then combine them into a blockbuster movie (actually more of a slide show) with music, special effects and a dancing skeleton (our newest travel mascot).

Hey, mind if I stop by?

My family has a decidedly agrarian history.  We trace our roots, as far as I have traced them anyway, to the Northern Great Plains.  I still have family there, and whether they like it or not I stay in touch.  Since I live so far away, it normally does not bother them too much.  Every couple of years or so, though, I show up, (appetite in hand, pining for a beer) similar to allergies, or gastritis.  Uncomfortable, recurring afflictions, that are too persistent, and painful to ignore, with no known cure.  They feed me, give me a few beers, and hope I don't last too long.

You may wonder why I bring this up (and may be starting to side with my family).  Don't worry, I'm getting there.  Today, one of my cousins updated her Facebook Picture to a smiling, happy, comfortably, yet fashionably dressed photo of herself, taken, obviously, in warmth, and sunshine.  I commented that it looked so warm we should visit in January.  My wife will lecture me tonight, pointing out that I should have commented on how nice my cousin looked, instead of the weather.  But, she wasn't around and it is my cousin, after all.

Anyway, my cousin said we would be welcome.  This might have been because she wasn't home, which is normally when people (particularly people who know me) want me to show up.  And, my cousin added that the picture was from warmer times, and if we waited until we normally showed up we could suffer through the blistering, humid summer instead of the bitter, bone chilling arctic winter.  Then she apologized for complaining about the insufferable heat, while still dealing with the crippling cold.

People should not worry about those things, though.  Man was meant to complain, that is why we have voices.  So we can raise them in unison, in a glorious, harmonious, chorus of complaining and whining, mostly about the weather.

If you watch the news they spend an inordinate amount of time covering the weather.  Radar, and Doppler Radar, and Weather Center Analysis, to bring you the breaking news that it may snow.  Or, it is going to be cold, and rainy.  Shiny maps, with animated graphics tell the tale of impending frost, or wind chill, or freezing rain, or drenching rain.  There are so many things to worry about.

You may still be wondering why I bring this up, and I can't really say anymore, who knows?  I certainly can't remember.  It had something to do with a trip to the grocery store last weekend.  My wife and I went through the self checkout line, where you can experience all of the excitement of retail employment, all the thrills of products that won't scan correctly, all of the drama coupons being declined, and prices being incorrect, lines filled with sighing, angry people backing up as far as the eye can see, without all of that pesky pay and benefits.

As we finished, I noticed there was a loaf of bread in one of the bags.  Someone had bought the bread, and forgotten to take it home, and it was as good as ours.  It was just waiting for me to pick it up, put it in the same hand as the groceries we had struggled and scraped, and fought our way through the store to buy.  It was found income without the 50% tax rate.  Oh, glorious day.

Then I remembered.  That is almost exactly what happened to Jean Valjean.  A free loaf of bread did not sound so appetizing anymore.  I rushed it over to the person supervising the area, looking to avoid the gendarme.  Ready to bolt, a life on the run, no hope for redemption.  But, they wouldn't take me alive!

It is lost in the crazy workings of a Friday, but somewhere my cousin is responsible for this.  That is certain, what is less clear is how.  But, I have a whole weekend to come up with something.

Safety Tips for the Common Man

WIth fall approaching, summer taking it's final bow, and the school year beginning to indoctrinate our children with all of the illusions and half truths they will need to survive life, it is time to review some important practices that will help us all live longer and healthier.

1. If you smoke, quit.  There are many studies suggesting smoking is addictive, dangerous, expensive, and socially unacceptable.  As our climate changes and extreme temperatures become normal, do you really want to stand outside of your comfortable office building in the blinding sun dripping sweat, melting into a puddle, and quite possibly become the victim of spontaneous combustion, just to "smoke a butt?"  No, of course you don't.  And in just a few short months, you will need to dress in a manner appropriate for someone who is attempting to "get the medicine through to the eskimos," just to "light up."

And here is the bad bit, often you don't have any choice of who you smoke with.  It might be that annoying guy from Research and Development, the guy who is always going on and on about how his parents won't let him have a Burmese python as long as he is living in their basement, and once they "kick the ol' bucket and the house is mine I will have whatever damn pet I want."  Man, sometimes it seems like all that guy does is smoke.  Every time you go out to have a smoke, there he is talking about how sick he is of eating meatloaf, or pot roast, or baked chicken.  So, quitting is a good idea.

2. Cool night time temperatures can cause a lot of condensation to form on the windows of your car.  If you leave early for work, often you won't be able to see out of the windshield on the front of the car, it will be so thick.  Having seen enough movies involving the supernatural you know that is the perfect opportunity for an ambush.  Climbing happily in your car, whistling a cheery little song, and anticipating a smoke free, joyous day on the job, you flip on the wipers, and sitting on the hood of your car is a gargoyle, or vampire, or chupacabra, or something sinister, with evil intentions, who smashes his fist, or paw, or appendage through the glass and drags your screaming, helpless body off into the morning darkness to a place that exists only for the suffering of innocent, kind people, like you, and you will never be seen again, and your car will be a mess.

The most effective counter measure is to drive a few blocks before turning on the wipers.  It is not the best idea to drive without being able to see, but it is much better than the alternative, having your disembodied soul wandering aimlessly, voicelessly throughout eternity.  Seeing your wife marry someone so much more successful, and watching him win over your children with equal parts of paternal wisdom, impeccable humor, and fantastic, expensive gifts.  Money grubbing, little brats, anyway.

Stay safe, keep your eyes open, and tune in tomorrow, when we discuss airline safety, the myth behind the lie.

Summer Time, Magic in the Making!

Yesterday was the summer solstice.  This carries very little importance these days, but it used to be momentous, spiritual, and celebrated.  Now it passes with little notice, and no real celebration.  Summer solstice marks the new season in all of it's warmth, light, growth, and the promise of life, potential.  The joy of yard work, and the smell of fresh cut grass, gardens and the aroma of flowers, the thrill of watching the vegetables, planted by hand,

bear crop.  It is the longest day of the year, and it brings a sure sign of summer, back to school sales.

That's right, folks, time to start getting ready for fall, pencils, pens, notebooks, and expensive caculators so complicated nobody can possibly understand or use them.  All on sale at such ridiculously low prices they will never see equal.  Until the next advertisement, that is.

Also, you might want to stock up on long sleeved shirts, pants, jackets and thermal underwear.  Don't forget to schedule an appointment to winterize your car.  Oh, and stocking hats and gloves, you need to make sure you have those.

While we are at it, don't forget to start buying some candy for Halloween, and now is the time to get a deal on Thanksgiving items (we recommend putting off buying the turkey until the Fourth of July Christmas Sale Extravaganza!).  

Summer, the season of outdoor life, grills, picnics, baseball, and preparation.  

This message was bought to you by the International Association of Stores.  Please buy a bunch,

The Awning of a New Day.

Today we are going to attempt to predict the future, the near future, this summer, in general, our vacation plans this summer, in particular. We are going to visit Pukwana South Dakota (and points west, and some points east, and maybe even a point south). The home of the Puk U Bar and Grille and Lawn Mower Race Arena. It is a delightful place, owned by my cousin Marcie, a hard working entrepreneur who has managed to carve out a successful business in the windswept, indifferent plains of Central South Dakota.

Here is the Puk U, the awning is new, at least this is the first time I've seen it.

Those who know me, understand my long, comfortable relationship with cold beer and Kentucky bourbon, (and Tennessee sour mash, and rye from a small distillery in Iowa) and the Puk U has both in generous supply. Though, finding a Puk U t-shirt in the appropriate size is difficult, they are a very hot commodity, still, I have not given up. There is also a wonderful menu, featuring many local favorites, all prepared to order (if the grill is on) and served with cold beer.

But, the real draw is the lawn mower races. People take small, riding lawn mowers and modify them using mechanical prowess, Midwest ingenuity,  and the burning desire to take something designed to be a functional and only slightly dangerous, and turn it into something fast, fun and much more dangerous. It is human nature.  These modified mowers travel at... they go...  reach speeds of... well I don't know how fast they go, but they really go, rocketing around an oval track at speeds approaching way faster than a person should be driving a lawn mower. Which makes for a wonderful spectator sport.

Of course, no true spectator sport is complete without a little action on the side.   Lawn mower races provide this through the process of auctioning racers.  You bid on the drivers, and if they win you get a portion of the prize money, which comes from the auction itself, almost a zen koan, the gambler waging on his \ her own ability to pick the right racer on which to wager.  You see, this is culturally enlightening as well as exciting.

An actual, professional auctioneer is employed to expedite this process. There is something hypnotic, mesmerizing in the cadence of an auctioneer's call. After sitting through the first several racers the siren's song won, it was addictive, and I was powerless to resist,  and had to bid, finally managing to win. Naturally, since I had won the right to root for the racer and would get a part of his winnings, the poor guy never stood a chance. His lawn mower, recognizing the curse that I routinely bestow on various sports teams, actually gave up and stopped without finishing a whole lap. Curses can be funny things, who knew they understood the workings of the internal combustion engine.

But, never quit, that's my motto, (unlike certain lawn mowers) and I am going back this summer. I have been working on my ability to exude a winning demeanor to machinery (mostly by talking to cars in parking lots) and plan on watching my racer cross the finish line, that would be a victory, at least for me.

If you happen to be driving across South Dakota on I90 and see the sign for Pukwana, stop in, find  the Puk U, it is not difficult to locate, it is right next to the race track, and very near to the Fire Station, I think, have a beer, and a shot of bourbon, a good meal (if the grill is on) and leave a very generous tip.  We are talking about family here.

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