Playing indoors

Posted on January 21, 2011

12


I did shovel and scrape, really I did.  Fat lot of good it did me.  Mama Nature should be called for piling on.  Eventually I ran out of steam and made a Note to Self:  Call Tom Morrison.  That was a couple of days ago. 

This morning Bruce and Andi Laidlaw’s bright blue happy car pulled into the driveway to carry me off to breakfast at Chris and Sonny’s.  Before I noticed they’d arrived, Bruce was halfway up the Mt. Everest of uncleared steps, determined to keep me from cartwheeling myself to an early death.  No picture of Bruce halfway up the steps looking worried. 

Over at Sonny’s, Norton Bretz and Dean Branson were conferring about keeping Torch Lake pristine, and Sonny himself was holding court at the back table.  We took a booth.  Bruce and Andi had read yesterday’s Torch Lake Views, and as they are blessedly not young enough to be my grandchildren, we had a good time swapping stories about where we were during the Kennedy administration. 

Bruce was a student at the University of Michigan during the campaign.  JFK was going to make an appearance at the Student Union, and a crowd of students gathered to see him.  A big crowd.  Bruce said when Kennedy appeared, that crowd surged forward, and Bruce felt all the air being pushed out of his lungs.  He spent the next little while gasping for air rather than hearing the historic Peace Corps speech.  Andi turned out to see Dick Nixon make a whistle stop on the campaign trail.  We all remembered the Inaugural.  We all remembered Dallas, too, but we didn’t talk about that today.  We just remembered the good stuff, Jack Kennedy and Dick Nixon, both of ’em out there within touching distance of The People, including our youthful selves.  It was a different time, if only for a moment.

As we were leaving, I told them my favorite Chris story, and Chris heard me and laughed and told one that topped it, and here it is. 

One day a young woman, maybe 24 or so, came in and said she was having car trouble.  She’d like to leave it overnight and call someone to come get her.  Would that be OK?  Well, sure, Chris told her, but why don’t you just take my car and bring it back tomorrow? 

You’d let me take your car? asked the customer, staring at the keys that Chris was holding out to her.  Well sure, said Chris.  I know who you are.  I know your parents!

The moral of the story: Watch yourself.  The people you meet while you’re out and about are likely to know who you are even if you don’t recognize them, and they probably know your parents. 

It is still snowing out there, and I am not up to going out in it to make pictures for you.  I thought I’d show you instead what there is to do indoors.  As I took these photos I laughed at some very good memories. 

Then I noticed all the dust bunnies, and had to get out the duster.  Then I had to spend quite a long time getting up off the floor where I’d crouched to dust that bottom shelf.  On the way up I spotted the Yo Yo Ma CD (I know, I know, I am hopelessly old-fashioned).  It’s playing on the laptop as I write this. 

It’s really a very good day, especially if you can stay indoors to ponder the geology of snow.  I hope you have a good one, too.

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