The one known to life is that it moves on whether you’re ready or not. You are simply along for the ride (bumpy or smooth, uphill-level ground-downhill) although you have some navigational say so. In large part the weekly letters of the last 14 years have served to let the kids know how their dad is faring in the journey. Not bad. Not bad.
November 4, 2013
Ellen/Reid: Well, I’m picking up a fresh head of steam down here, so don’t worry unduly about your old man. Things are fine. Golf and walking and teaching tend to take your mind off things and that is peachy by me. Okay, the golf isn’t so fine, but you catch my drift.
There was yet another reorganization at work. The more things change, the more they stay the same. This one hit a little closer to home in that one of the guys involved in the reshuffling – he’s now with another group altogether – really liked my work and rarely made any edits. It’s hard to replace that kind of trust. It really doesn’t affect me other than the uncertainty of who’s doing what. It’s just the nature of the corporate beast – stir the pot and, after a while, stir it again for good measure. Reid, you’ve seen that as much as I have. Shit happens.
In a few weeks we’ll all be gathering in Savannah and then to Hilton Head.
The crib is secured; now it’s on to a rental SUV, hopefully with enough cargo space for Emma and all of her gear, not to mention her parents. In an unusual spate of prior planning, the menu is coming together; real turkey and fixins’ on T-Day, pasta, fish, pizza on other nights. A little breakfast bread and pancakes/bacon/eggs thrown in for good measure. I want Emma to see how things are done right down in these parts. No tofu or overtly healthy foods will cross the threshold of the front door. Right now I’ll get the bigger car here and drop things off at the unit. Or, Reid I will pick you up and then we can deposit stuff in the condo, have a beer, then head back to the Savannah airport to pick up Emma and her folks. I really do sense many photo ‘ops’ during that week. Can’t wait.
The lettuce planted two weeks ago is already nearly an inch high. I doubt if it’s lettuce weather in either Chicago or St. Paul. Realistically, it should have been planted in Sept. but I didn’t get around to it. So far the HOA garden Nazis have yet to
rear their ugly head(s) but if they do then, well, they have a hell of a lot better things to do than concern themselves with a crop of illicit romaine. Man jailed for growing lettuce will read the Charlotte Observer headline.
I really like teaching at the local college, Central Piedmont Community College. It’s a good spot, and the kids seem to take their education fairly seriously. When I’m idling before class by having a sandwich at the first floor Subway, I make it a point to ask the students – a lot of them are black – about what they’re studying. What they say is impressive to me; one wants to be an occupational therapist, another wants to be an architect, another wants to go on in math. I wear an instructor’s name tag so they know I’m not just some weird guy on the loose. There’s just a large part of me that thinks education is the whole – the entire – lynch pin behind where our society is going to be in 10 – 20 – 30 years. North Carolina isn’t a state that necessarily supports public education let alone higher education. Reid, on that score, you’re mum about your graduate courses.
The YMCA routine is going as well as can be expected. Man, there are a lot of really, really buff people in there. I go in, do my elliptical work (huffing and puffing) then do floor work and get out of there. Lots of tutelage/sculpting by personal trainers. Some are with a trainer from the time I step in until I leave. I go there at a slow time and it’s still crowded. I cannot imagine the peak times before and after work. They must need you to take a number and get in line to use a machine. That, or take reservations: “Ms. Smith, your cardio machine at 5:45 is now available.”