Wednesday, June 8, 2011


Oh, lordy, it's hot and humid. You know it's hot outside when, even though the air conditioner is set at 73, you get hot inside when you exert yourself. I'm waiting for the weekend when it's supposed to cool off some. I'm planning to take my bike out for a ride on Friday and Saturday. I'm looking forward to getting on the trail and pedaling a ways. I got a fee envelope the last time I was there so I'll drop it off and then they'll send me a bike pass so I won't be a scofflaw. Isn't that an excellent word? Scofflaw. I kind of want to be one just so I can say it. Durwood's not feeling well, he's got a virus so he's drooping around taking naps at the drop of a hat. He's got antibiotics and a new inhaler which he wants to fix him fast, but you know how viruses are, you get better when you get better and not a minute sooner. I feel bad for him. It's no fun being sick but it's especially no fun when the weather's nice.

June 7--Italian, Sallet (helmet).
Erin loved the merry-go-round. On Sundays after church Grandpa took her for a ride. First they went to the pond to feed bread to the ducks. All week long Erin saved the4 ends of her toast and the last bide of her sandwiches to take along. Grandpa would leave his suit coat folded on the back seat of the Buick, he would untie his bowtie and unbutton the top button of his dress shirt. He's tug down the brim of his driving cap and light up his first cigar of the day while Erin tucked her white gloves into her white patent leather purse. She had to promise Mama that she would not keep her gloves on when she fed the ducks or rode the merry-go-round. Mama set great store by staying clean, especially on Sundays. After all the bread was fed to the greedy, squabbling ducks they'd get back in the car and drive around to the other side of the park where the rides were. She could hear the music of the organ as they drove up the hill and parked in the lot. The bright, happy music made her feet want to skip and dance across the gravel as she tugged Grandpa's hand to hurry him along. She stood impatiently as he bought a strip of tickets and he made her wait until he stepped away from the window before he tore off a ticket and handed it to her. She ran to stand in line for the next ride and he found a bench to sit in the shade. Erin always rode on the golden lion with its mouth open redly in a roar. She waited as children and adults streamed onto the ride, crooning to her lion about the adventures they'd soon have. Grandpa always hoped that someone sat on his bench or a nearby one so that he could point her out as she came by, dark curls flying, waving and calling, "Look, Grandpa, I'm flying!" "That's my granddaughter," he'd say. "Isn't she pretty?" They'd nod that she was, every one of them.

I loved the merry-go-round at Mesker Park when I was little but there weren't any lions to ride, only horses. Stay cool today. Drink lots of water and stay in the shade.

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