I helped Ang cook out the chicken thighs Mom prepared Tuesday night. I started them in the oven. I like mine just a bit more done, so I put mine and the remaining one back on the grill. She got our potatoes off without tearing them up, and noted the coolness of the outer grill. I used the residual heat of the oven to keep the sides and chicken warm. Final touches, and it's time for three plate loads. (I mean one each.)
Ang-my wife- went for a walk with me. I stopped to show her where I took on the thicket that had been growing up beside the ditch. With Grandpa White's old sling blade and Mom's old push mower, old Cecil came to realize how much stamina you'd really need to fight with swords and spears and shields and axes on a battlefield! It wasn't that hard, it just helped me appreciate how much strength ruled in old times, so many places and occasions. i chopped Bradley Pear limbs above me. I hacked, I mowed. I really enjoyed it. And, ow. But don't over do it, be determined not masochistic, and Epson Salts in your bath seem to help.
This whole suburban trip has given me so much more insight into my Dad's life, all the years he did these things here and in the places they raised us. I know it made him feel proud and he did not take having a home of his own for granted. I want to leave the home he worked so hard to have, better. Especially the yard situation. We creossed the lawn so obligingly mowed while I steped inside to cool off, by our neighbor Tim, with his awesome mower fit for a stadium job. His daughter loved trying to learn how to drive it with his guidance. I've seen this man outside my window, on a bike with his three kids and wife out in our street the other day. Tim is a true Dad. Hey, he was befriending the new neighbor, and while they were hanging out, they decided they'd seen me working away at it and maybe I'd appreciate new neighbor bringing over the weed eater and edging the curb, and Tim's Batmobile of Mowers, honestly, would be perfect for the situation I'm trying to turn around for MOm in her back yard. Sorry, weeds, but we've got your number after this round! But each year, you really should have preventative weed killing measures in place before spring. When you've never been a suburbanite in your adult life, you have this brand new puzzle. No, not "my" house, but as I walk around the neighborhood containing it, I see so many ideas worth incorporating. And what do you know, I can grow and help and make something even nicer on the eyes of what is a really lovely place. Good work, Dad.
Back in the living room at 8 pm, it's Mama and Ang and me. Thank God, I was in a good mood all day.
We had so much fun cutting up and playing Sorry! I always opt to play the heel if I’m doing well at first. It was pretty fun, lots of laughing, our first board game in a few weeks, for sure. Took me more than an hour to win- “the cards are cruel,” Ang said, as we were obliged to wipe each other out! Ice cream really was the logical conclusion. I split a banana for my Mom's, though I didn't have all the sundae stuff handy. I'll tell you, fat free peach frozen yogurt wasn't quite the taste I really longed for. It's those memories of 4th of July weekends at Uncle Frank and Aunt Vivian's house, that homemade peach ice cream on the back porch! We each remember eating this stuff that's so cold, you seem to feel the indiviudual blood vessels in your head, freezing! Then, like my wife says, you still have the head freeze, but you can't wait for it to go away so you can have the next bite!
I wish some guy would just be nice and take Mom’s hand like I just did Ang’s- you know, just a show of gentleness. She's a bit old-fashioned and still can spit fire, but she's tender hearted and loyal. We've been trying to cheer her up. I worked on the garbage and the floors and lawn Tuesday too. She's often tempted away to a trip she enjoys but from which she keeps coming home unhappy, thanks to the host. But today, we leave the romantic complications to the soap characters.
We’re just a wholesome family. Though my mother's stomach for revenge on those who might gloat for fun (me) is substantial! We all successfully turned the momentum of the game through each of us, only to end in a race to HOME with pretty even odds.
Later.
Ang is saying, “didn’t the universe seem to put together a ritual so we could enjoy it with the neighborhood and your Mom- without having to explain it?” It’s really been quite golden as days go, without requiring a special trip or anyone else. It will probably be down to me and Ang one day, but this can be the foundation of times that don’t have to be eroded by competing narratives in the future. We so often don’t get to keep our favorite parts of the past happening the same way. These joys and all others are transient. We need something more than those to sustain us between for sure, but even one single-second-thought raises the value of that past occurrence. It’s like, you have to keep eating, basically, but you can value memories of particular meals.
Togetherness. The neighbors coming over to help finish my Mom’s yard with me for a few minutes before dark. The eagle landing on Windrush Drive. The cook out we prepared and ate together. All we needed was everyone out of work on a day when we weren’t otherwise strapped for energy. I don’t think I rely on any ritual that’d be too hard to understand. But something very nice happened: Mom’s yard got a lot of work yesterday, some today, people came together to help each other and have fun. A family dinner table on a holiday with no quarrels is already a grand thing, but isn’t it great to discover these low-key moments we mark the passing of the season? Not every friend or family member is here to do so, in this cycle of the year, anymore, save in hearts and memories. This sort of togetherness is the true fabric of our civilization. This is what keeps us sticking around for more.
Happy Summer. Be Chill, Cease ill
1 comment:
Nice blog, nice day. And -- see! -- I KNEW you could cook! (Don't out my secret identity on here, I'm trusting you, "Pete.")
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