5 Randoms for a Halloween Weekend

1. My parents decided to come up for the weekend, and while I had a good time with them, I was ready to get back to normal after I dropped them at the airport today. As I observed my interactions with them this weekend, I wondered if other peoples' parents (especially mothers) talk about the past as much as mine do:
"Do you remember when we brought you to Boston when you were 7 and we ate at that place with the checkered tableclothes at Quincy Market and had baked beans?"
"No."
"You DON'T!?"
Or, even more curiously, "Do you remember when you were one and we used to dance around the dining room table singing nursery rhymes?"
"Kids don't remember anything from when they were under three, mom."
"They DON'T!? You don't remember that?!"
I've come to the conclusion that my mother never quite got over me growing up.

2. I saw the Post-Meridian Radio Players' production of "The Big Broadcast" last night, and forgot how much I love live theatre and concurrently am embarrassed for loving live theatre so much. It's so corny. But I don't care.

3. I realized that as much as I miss being a child, I wouldn't find walking around getting free candy from strangers as entertaining as I did when I was little. I can go to CVS down the street now and buy whatever candy I want. Kind of a bummer, really. Now if as adults we could go door to door asking for money, or beer, or electronics...that I could get into.

4. I can't believe it's been almost a year that I've been here on Parker Street. I've now witnessed all the seasons here, and still maintain that this is one of the best neighborhoods to live in. Now, if I could get a couch and maybe an area rug in my living room, life would be near-perfect.

5. Autumn seems to be, once again, a time for endings and re-assessing life goals. I think I am better equipped to deal with such things this year, although am still quite sad at the current outcome. Hopefully if this trajectory continues similarly as last year's, I will see a resurgence after Christmas, and for that I am very excited.

And a bonus 6th...

No matter what kind of mood you are in, seeing Chewbacca riding around on a Seguay in the North End will always, always bring a smile to your face. Especially when he growls at everyone he passes.

A Quick Note

My new cell phone has a section in the "Messages" menu called "Quick Notes." I always just thought these were for business matters: "I'm in a meeting," "Meet me for lunch," "Sorry can't talk busy now" kind of thing. But today I noticed one I hadn't seen before: "I'm sorry/I love you." Ah, I thought, nothing like really showing remorse and love like sending a pre-packaged message you didn't even have to type yourself. And it's not even a comma, or a period, or an "and" - it's an either/or slash. Like either "I'm sorry" or "I love you" or perhaps you're meant to erase the one that doesn't apply...

This...is an apology fail. If you ever receive this text, I would be dubious of its sincerity.

Fall

This weekend was quintessential fall:

Apple picking and leaf peeping, tree and rock climbing, movie-going.
Festival-attending, beer sipping.
Dancing to tubas and trumpets and trombones and big drums.
Cart Indian food.
Sleeping in, breaking out the fleece.
Long talks on long walks.
And, of course, having to turn on the space heater first thing in the morning...

I try to keep these feelings with me as I'm back to work for the week, waiting until the next weekend of fun, when I get to let loose again. Sometimes I wonder how some people do this their whole lives - working weekend to weekend, trudging through until they get two special days where they can actually live their lives. This is what I'm working towards, I tell myself as I get up at 5:30 and lumber from the red line to the green line with the masses. I'm working for every day to be just as fulfilling as this past weekend.

Good luck to me, you say. Thanks. I'll need it.

It's a Good Thing the Past is Passed

This is the intro to a really really really bad sci-fi short story I started (but never finished), circa mid-1998. There is a reason it was never finished.

100 years ago, our Earth was unknown and new. Although we had been around for billions of years, this number didn’t even compare to how old some of the other worlds were. 100 years ago, we found out there were other worlds. 100 years ago, other worlds found us.

I was around 100 years ago. I’ve only been around 18. The year I was born was 83 years into the Reconstrcution of our world. My name is Wick Putnum, and my name means “new” or “full of life.” I was totally oblivious of what was going on around me and what my world had been through. 100 years ago hadn’t mattered to me.

It does not. 100 years ago, our planet was blasted by a force of what can only be described as “wind.” This “wind” blanketed the Earth in chemical tonxins, causing every living thing to die. Only two hundred survived – the 200 that were underground in an experimental housing project. These 200 lived underground for thirty years, starting new lives and sadly laying to rest the ones that lived out their last years in that living grave. Finally, they ascended to the surface, finding a barren wasteland, and nothing but dry sand, which was actually the dehydrated bodies of all living organisms.

Here they began the Reconstruction. Here they build cities anew. And here I was born, live, thrive, and grow. 100 years have passed, and we have discovered we’re not alone. We were blasted with what we affectionately refer to as “intergalactic hairspray” by what we affectionately refer to as an “ant.”

Unknowing if the ants will ever strike again, we’ve built up an army to protect our land. We’ve developed spaceships to defend our bases. And we’ve send up thousands of our willing men to man them. We hope they will never come again to this place.

Weird Dream

Things are changing around here, and I don't yet know how, but I had a weird dream last night that I hope is, if not prophetic, at least can act as a comfort.

I was at a Catholic church, but it was huge, like a complex almost. There were helicopter pads and stuff. I was in an outdoor arena, waiting for a speaker to begin. A helicopter landed very close to the arena, at about the same level as our heads, and the blades were very close. The helicopter didn't sound too good, so we all decided to leave quickly, and it's a good thing we did - it blew up just as we were leaving the grounds.

We entered the city and, lo and behold, it was like War of the Worlds - tripods everywhere. I was running with the priest and we both kind of looked at each other like, "Here we go again." We hid in a bar, behind the counter (think Shaun of the Dead). A friend brought us a party pack with a disposable camera and some chocolate, I'm guessing to capture our last few moments alive. The fighting sounds died down and we decided to get in the car, and as we were driving away from the bar we realized we didn't see any of the tripods. I called my mom, to tell her goodbye, but as we were talking we realized there really wasn't any reason to say goodbye. The tripods were actually just men in paper mache suits, and now they were all falling over. There was no real threat. We actually bumped the car into one and it sort of grunted. Dream over.

So in both parts of the dream there was a threat, and then we dodged things, and then there was a threat again, and it turned out to be not as bad as we thought. So I'm hoping this is to be applied to my current situation. Maybe, in the long run, when I have some ability to look at it closer, this isn't as bad as it now seems. At least, that's my hope.

My Time in Iowa

The other night, Myque’s mom Carole asked me what I would tell people was great about Iowa. At the time, I didn’t really know what to say, because I think just about everything is great about Iowa. But thinking about it more I realized I should say what I couldn’t verbalize to Carole the other night: for her, for all of them, and for you, my readers who might not understand the appeal. So without further ado, please enjoy

What I Did on My Summer Vacation, or Why I Loved Iowa (Other than the Obvious)

Every morning, sipping coffee at the same table Myque’s family has sat around since he was a child, I could look out the back window at the big tree on the edge of the yard and watch the sun rise. My first morning, the sunrise was so beautiful behind the corn, barn and tree that I couldn’t help but tiptoe, barefoot, out onto the dew-heavy grass to photograph it. Yesterday morning a blood-orange sun captured my eye so thoroughly that I didn’t even manage to reach for my camera. Then in the evening, I could peer out the front door at the sunset, sinking below the beans and subtle hills of the surrounding farmland. The other night, as Myque and I relaxed with his sister and brother-in-law in town, he received a call from his dad encouraging us to get in the car and drive to where we could enjoy a postcard-perfect evening sky. On the way, we ran into some people they knew and ended up talking right through the sunset, but that was okay. That’s Iowa.

And Iowa, especially where Myque’s family lives, is a tight-knit community like that. Ever since I set foot in the Franz household, I have greatly enjoyed being allowed to help. This past week I did bait, cooked, helped set up and tear down a wedding reception, cleaned, hauled tables and chairs, planted grass seed, herded first graders, and socialized a kitten. I learned how to drive a skid loader, a riding mower, and a four-wheeler. I watched Myque’s dad at this farm or that farm, bailing or raking or exterminating rodents, helping neighbors, getting help from neighbors, and not thinking twice about it. That’s just how things are. Myque and I didn’t go anywhere in town without running into someone he knew, and stopping to talk is par for the course. Sure, sometimes you miss sunsets, but the closeness felt between members of the community makes everything worth it.

And then of course there are the little things, the things that are so obviously awesome that they could go without mention but I’ll do it anyway: Fresh Iowa beef (and cousins who grill it perfectly), sweet corn from the family’s garden, pulled pork sandwiches so tender they melt, fresh air whipping through your hair from the back of a motorcycle, exploring Iowa wildlife with first graders. Birthday parties with castle cakes. Card games with old friends. Favorite coffee shops. Wild kittens. Lightning bugs. Watching a couple’s first wedding dance and later impromptu dance recitals. Journaling as the sun inches over the barn and the dog and cat snooze at your feet. Morning dew. Being included on the growth chart wall with amazing people you’ve only known for a few days. Accomplishing something, learning something, loving everything.

That’s Iowa. Or, at least, that’s my Iowa. All of these things, I’m sure, can be found just about anywhere. But I was lucky enough to find it all in the middle of the country in a little state most people confuse with the state famous for potatoes. No matter if I go back once or (more preferably) a million times, I will always love these things about Iowa. And I’m excited to find more!

Haiku . Independence, Iowa

The moon, a pumpkin
hanging o'er hazy mud skies
behind the red barn