Friday, August 26, 2005


Lesser men than me would quake in the waning days of a vacation but I fear not. Although admittedly I’m saying this Guinness-aided. Still, I look back and have a deep appreciation for the days I’ve been gifted with and feel a deep sense of relaxation (again, perhaps Guinness-aided).

It’s nice to take a moment and cherish the moments that made it special. The most recent was seeing Bernadette hit every drive off the tee like she was a professional, which, of course she was. And by the tenth hole I could watch her tee off and not be nervous. Drives would come off her driver as if they were pre-ordained. And I’m always amazed if only because that means her clubhead has to be exactly straight (i.e. neither tilted north or south one iota) every time. I have trouble making sure the clubhead is straight before I hit the ball let alone midway through a swing. I found it hi-laire at the difference between her and the other gals, for politically incorrect reasons. If I was playing “spot the heterosexual” it wouldn’t be a close call. When the Columbus Dispatch mentioned some other woman as “best dressed” I was sure they hadn’t seen Bernadette.

Part of what was cool about it was the sense of adventure, the getting up so early in the morning and breaking the routine of life. Something as small as that really makes a difference. And there was the adrenalin of being at my first pro tournament, of watching what they do, how much the pros talk, how country-quiet it is, how they announce who's tee'ing off and their hometown, how a group of two or three follow them around writing down the scores and toting a sign of where they are in relation to par.

I didn’t get to go to Miami or Glynnwood or read at Darby but the Reds and LPGA are significant enough to ameliorate some of the pain. Still, I’m thinking a few more days next year might be the ticket. And it was good to see Mom & Dad: long bike ride with Mom. I also gainsayed some beautiful books too at the Half-price bookstore they have down there. Came away pregnant with books and the treasure of Grandma’s scrapbook, which I carefully scanned Tuesday morning. There was something special in the air that Tuesday morn, the dust motes lit up in the morning sun, the ancient text and images from a bygone era satisfyingly transplanted to the “permanent” venue of digital storage. Then in the afternoon, sitting outside in the ecstasy of sun and plant, exuberant and giddy before the expanse of time before me, I bled some of that joy into the journal.

• • • • •

"And it was good to see Mom & Dad: long bike ride with Mom."

I recall reading somewhere that you can evaluate the relative health of a music genre by the frequency of references to Mom and Dad.

My wife is Vietnamese and I enjoy traditional Vietnamese music. She translates the lyrics for me and it amazing how often "Mom and Dad" themes show up. The same could be said of American Country and Bluegrass music.
. . . pregnant with books . . .

You've captured it.
Wow two comments on ye old bastard stepchild blog. I'm honored.

Jeff - that's part of why I love Bluegrass. Ralph Stanley is my favorite. Also Randy Travis has a gospel album out that I highly recommend.

Roz - I hope the pregnancy comes to term and I actually read those books!
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