Signs of the Times

It used to be that the instructional signs on interstates and highways read:  Keep Right Except to Pass
Recently, in our area at least, the new message is: Slower Traffic Keep Right
Which suggests that those who monitor our roadways are admitting that posted speed limits have become guidelines rather than requirements - and that drivers who can't deal with it need to get the hell out of the way.

Why Wait?

Social media has been flooded with David Bowie tributes today.  While music appreciators have collectively mourned the loss of a talented artist they have also celebrated the music David Bowie gifted us with.

It's not an uncommon occurrence - sharing in grief - but technology has exponentially increased the impact. People around the world are brought together in a finite time period and the results are - well nothing short of amazing.

But why wait for tragic circumstances to come together as a community of music artists and music appreciators?  Why not celebrate annually  those uniquely gifted artists that cross generations?

Arrival Days they would be called. The anniversary of the day an exceptional artists first made his, her, or their impact. On Arrival Days we, as a worldwide community would share the impacts those artists have had on our lives - and the artists themselves could benefit from the world giving back.

Dandelion Love

She stood at my front door, all three feet and 7 inches of her, my granddaughter. On her face was a smile and in her hand was a yellow dandelion bloom.

Here, Opa, I got you a flower. I accepted the gift with the pomp and circumstance such an offering deserved.

Yes, any other day that same yellow bloom would have served as an unwelcome reminder that weeds were overrunning my lawn.  But right then that dandelion plucking was an an invaluable expression of love.

Celebration or Reinactment

It was the 4th of July and the quiet of dusk was broken by the cracks of igniting  gunpowder, explosive flashes, whistling rockets, and shouts of Hooray.

The celebration was taking place in 2015 near my home in Lewes, DE.

And yet it could just as well have been the year 1814 near Fort McHenry: muskets firing charges of black powder, glowing hot cannonballs arching through the sky, and shouts of Huzzah every time the ebb of battle changed.

Which makes me wonder if, when we celebrate our independence, we aren't subconsciously reliving one of the epic battles that got us there.

Natural Pause

There is that moment when nature takes a deep breath.

Cacophonous birdsong falls silent. Crickets halt the rubbing of legs. Gnats cease their spinning tornado dances. Butterflies fold their swings.

Tree leaves cease to flutter. Blades of grass no longer bend. Empty playground swings stop their ghostly pendulum. The day-long heat halts its advance. Shadows have turned from black to gray.

The silent world lies waiting...waiting... until comes that boom of thunder and sizzle of lightning announcing the opening of heavens gates. Winds churned to a howling fury send pregnant clouds racing to deliver life supporting rain. Even the stoutest of trees bend before the onslaught.

In its wake the storm leaves water drip drip dripping from a dozen and more surfaces. Sporadically at first, then with confidence, crickets resume their concerto - accompanied now by the bass of croaking frog. In the audience, birds chitter excitedly about the sumptuous breakfast to be had in the morn. And people... people revel in the shelter offered by their homes.

Christmas in June

I want to watch the Christmas movie. Those were the first words out of our 3 year-old granddaughter's mouth as she came through our front door on an 80 degree June day.  The desired movie being The Grinch That Stole Christmas.

Our granddaughter comes by it honestly.

When I was growing up Christmas was always a bid deal in my immediate and extended family. Later, the first Christmas tree I bought for an apartment of my own took up a full quarter of the living room. Later still, decorating the colonial style house in which my wife and I set up housekeeping grew to a four day undertaking.

Our own kids knew the words to every Christmas song there ever was by heart. A friend once speculated that I must have tied my son to a chair, placed speakers on either side of him, and refused to cut him loose until every holiday song was committed to memory.

My son went on to buy a Christmas tree that took up a full quarter of the living room of his apartment.

So when our daughter's daughter requested Christmas in June my wife looked at me, rolled her eyes, and said.... Oh my gosh -  it's genetic

Memory Lesson

The cardinal had fluttered to a landing on the hood of my parked car. From the opposite side of the windshield the bird pecked inquisitively at something beneath the cowling that sheltered the windshield wipers when they were off. The toughness of the cardinal's beak was evident in the rapping whenever the glass itself was struck.

Moving slowly, I sought a better vantage point that I might see what the cardinal was after. I was not the only curious one. A second cardinal came in for a landing.  The photo op was too good to pass up. Raising my cell phone, trying for the best shot, I leaned an inch too far forward. Both birds took to flight.

I took the message to heart. Sometimes the best memories are those that live.... only in your memory.