I had a serious post prepared for today, but yesterday I went back into town to do the errands that I was prevented from completing by Friday’s storm, and I became all swept up in the prevailing holiday mood.
The town is filled up with tourists who have flocked here for the scenery and hiking—it is the long Memorial Day holiday, isn’t it? (Seems so early this year!)—the kids in the school had their prom this weekend, the breakfast buffet at the Motor Lodge was crowded, and I’ve realized that no one wants to read a serious post. This is the holiday, aver all, that traditionally marks the beginning of summer vacation in America.
Thanks to our recent rains, the pond is full and my water tank is topped off. This morning the batteries of my electrical system were fully charged by 8:30 am. The refrigerator is full of food, too. It is a glorious, clear day. I haven’t got a care in the world.
Last night I talked for a long time with Henry. We spoke extensively about the instability of the outer world, and how Estrella Vista could provide him with a safe haven if needed. He would have to eschew his reliance on air conditioning, but the move would solve all the other issues which presently bother him. Unlike our previous discussions, I am left with the impression that he is seriously considering the option. It made me think of how Mark Twain’s father must have felt: “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.” Henry is 35, so by now I must be brilliant.
As if to remind me that all the crap I normally deal with is still there in the background, last night I heard from Chris Brown (Jordan’s dad), who vented his anger and frustration at Judge Hodge’s decision, and made me realize that a valuable function I still provide is to offer a patient and receptive ear to people with real problems. That, too, left me with a certain self-satisfaction.
The only regret I have today is that last night I lost an auction for an advertising sign that I really wanted for my collection. I was outbid in the last second of bidding by some wily competitor. But I really couldn’t afford it, anyway. This morning I awoke thankful to that unknown bidder. He had paid top dollar and saved me from months of financial sacrifice.
This is the one that got away.
Some of the best things in life are free—or nearly so. Yesterday as I was returning home from town, I heard an early Bob Dylan song on the radio with which I was unfamiliar, and I immediately downloaded several versions of it. My total cost? $0.99. Bob Dylan doesn’t need more money, anyway.
Groove of the Day
88° and Clear