A quiet endeavor…


There is much solitude, audibly and visually speaking, to letters.  This morning’s 667 word note to Ellen and Reid was banged out, in silence, in about 16 minutes, interrupted only by a few sips of near-worthless office coffee.

There were no maddening pop ups to squelch or annoy me; no ads asking for my opinion or wanting me to click hither and yon; no appeals to have me try off-shore products for male “medicinal purposes.”  These are all impositions whenever any of us email or use the web.

So I sat in blessed silence for those few minutes it took to compose the note.  My mind is easily distracted from the task at hand, and I don’t need any of the electronic jumble of online junk to syphon off attention.  If I could tell the bombardiers of spam or other non-valued offerings just one thing, it would be this: “Leave me alone to my peace and quiet for at least a few minutes.  I’ll deal with you soon enough.”

FYI…watch this space on Wednesday for an incredible letter sent by my new friend Craig to his son.  The emotional ramifications of what he has to say are difficult for me to deal with.  It deserves to be posted very much because it represents all that letters can be in a world of privacy, warmth and caring.

Here is last week’s letter to the kids.  Best read just before you go to sleep (that is code for ‘boring and mundane’).

March 1, 2010

Ellen/Reid: If March comes in like a lamb and goes out like a lion I am really going to be hot.  Enough is enough.  A guy in the Observer was bidding good riddance to February, and if we could all kick it out the door with pointy toed shoes, we would.  Snow/sleet tonight and tomorrow.  Just my luck: this is the coldest winter in 33 years and the wettest in 40 years.  My first couple of winters I rarely wore a coat; now it’s a staple of my wardrobe.

There is a smidgen of good news.  Your grandparents are talking about moving to a healthier, less work and less stress living situation, and now we just have to collectively hold them to that conversation.  It is time.  I told your grandfather about the concept of move managers.  He didn’t say ‘no’ so that’s a start.  When I’m up there in April we’ll continue to push that rock up the hill.

Speaking of travel, tell me what weekends might work if you don’t mind a visitor from the South.  The fares don’t look too bad these days.  Ellen, I do want to see how the new long-delayed couch and table look in your abode, and Reid, I simply need to see your new place.  EP, if you want me to scout chairs here, it is worth reminding you this is the furniture capitol of the world.

Played golf twice this weekend (78, 74) against my friend Mike and we had a good two day match that came down to the last couple of holes.  He punked me on the first day with a hot putter but my revenge occurred on Sunday with a flurry of pars down the stretch.  It was great fun.  The Bermuda is dormant and we were both lamenting the late arrival of spring.  Reid, if you’d rather tote your clubs down here for a long weekend, make it happen.  My treat.

Someone has been coming in at night and shrinking my clothes.  That, or my willpower to stay away from food, any sort of food, has wilted like lettuce in the hot sun.  After nearly four years of five-day-a-week workouts, I am tired.   Not so much bored, just fatigued.  Maybe when it gets warm out I’ll find new resolve, but it’s not like I need to get ship shape to sport a thong at the beach or anything like that.  My clothes are just feeling a little snug.  Can’t decide if I need to ditch the carbs or simply practice discipline and portion control.  Probably the latter.

I-40 west of here near the Tennessee line will be closed for another few months.  It’s been blocked by falling rocks since October, and it’s unfathomable that it can’t be cleared.  What a hassle for people who use that route.  Of course, Tennessee has not quite figured into my plans.

Your mom nosed around about a group get-together around Easter but that doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me.  It would be great fun and cathartic for us, but maybe another time.  I counter offered to host everyone down here, and perhaps we can do just that later in the year.  There is plenty of room for everyone, and the weather is almost guaranteed to be a lead pipe cinch.  You might remind her that it would be okay for folks to come down this way.  (My treat for you two.)

No sign of the lettuce seeds planted a week ago yesterday.  It just has been too cold for the little things to sprout.  I am anxious for them to break the surface but am not holding my breath until the weather warms up a bit.  The ivy is inching its way up the trellises against its natural tendency to move along the ground.  Painted the molding and trim for the bathroom, and my friend Mike is still on board to help put it up.  He has all the right tools.  I, on the other hand, am all thumbs.

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6 Comments

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6 responses to “A quiet endeavor…

  1. 1st2Know

    Dave, I am becoming addicted to your letters. As a blog receptor, how am I to respond to what is written? Do you see this as a place to post like letters to our children or is it just your venue? Bob

    • Bob: It will become a place where people – you, in particular – can post letters you’ve sent. Technically speaking, I don’t know enough about the site to advise you how to do that, but it would be great if you could. That said, if you have written your twins at any point, you can send me the letter and we’ll post the parts of it you want people to see, along with you comments.

      • Ann Alford

        I, too, am becoming “addicted”. Today there is included a letter from another Dad. Now Bob wants to join in with letters to his children. I think it is interesting and touching to hear a Dad’s written thoughts to his children. Dave has ignited a new thing! Dave, Bob and Craig put pen to paper and share with us!!

  2. 1st2Know

    I am reading The Essential Dalai Lama and the writings suggest meditating on our Mother/Father and how their compassion for you as a child was manifested. All through college, during my stint in the Army during the Vietnam War, during graduate school, beginning my own family, while my career develop, I exchanged letters with my mother. Those letters gave provided a connection that made a huge difference in my life and as I look at the box of letters from my Mother that I saved, nothing but good comes at me, there is a book in that box.

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