Rain, Rain, Go Away

 

Thunderheads on the horizon, alive with flickering lightning like pregnant alien abdomens from late night science fiction. It's a good thing that I left early that morning, for no special reason, because halfway around I 465 it began to deluge and traffic slowed to a crawl. “We'll come out of it,” I thought; “We're just expecting isolated thunderstorms. Traffic will improve once I hit I 70.”

Well, yes, it did, but the rain continued to fall like it was trying to float Noah's ark. I was heading east, trying to outrun the storm. It rained heavily all the way from Indianapolis to Richmond, for about seventy miles. Isolated my eye, that storm had to be massive; it couldn't have been moving that fast. I had it floored, running 65 mph, when I could. I made it to my stop just on time.

That storm was on Tuesday. I've had a bunch of adventures this week. Monday was a particularly hard day. I'd done my usual Sunday laundry ritual and was just about to leave the bar when a surprise band started playing. It was Rooster McCabe out of Minneapolis. They were good. I couldn't leave. It was the summer solstice. A whole tribe of young hippies in tie die took the dance floor. I thought maybe they'd come with the band, but no, they just appeared. A friend said he thought he was having a flashback. I danced, if you want to call it that.

I don't know what time it was I finally flopped into bed. I didn't bother to set the alarm, but of course I always wake up. I drug my sorry ass to work and all went well. I drove very carefully; there was no getting in a hurry that day.

Three times this week I had to use all of my driving skills. Twice simply because the places that I delivered to required it, not being built to accommodate a truck my size. Like having to do a blind side back from off of a busy four lane street in Dayton, Ohio. I was shaking by the time I'd safely accomplished that. The other one is too complicate to explain, but there's no real problem going in, it's backing out again that's tricky. And then there was a construction zone in downtown Peru, Indiana that wasn't wide enough for my rig. “Relax people, I'll be out of your way as soon as I can. Does it look like I'm having fun here? Do you want to try this?” I ended up having to take a detour through a residential area, trimming the trees as I went.

Most interesting, though, I went off the beaten track again to deliver some refrigerators to Amish or Mennonites in Illinois, “The first left over the Kaskaskia River.” The area wasn't nearly as intensely populated by them as it was up in Shipshewana. I only saw one buggy. This time I asked more questions though. These places are factories. They buy the refrigerators and convert them to propane. I asked what they did with the compressors, once they'd been removed. “We usually buy them hollow. These have compressors so we'll probably end up tossing them.” A very disappointing answer, I thought.

 

Lift

 

It was a large hawk this morning. I saw it sail into a fence row so I slowed down, quiet. I misjudged its landing place. He was invisible until he jumped the air and flew across so close I could almost have touched him. Maybe if I'd been a hunter-gatherer.

 

Summer Solstice

Like winter the week days drag on and like summer the weekends evaporate before you're done with them. But no, we're in the midst of it, the time is now, this brief glory. It's both my weekend and the zenith of the year.

Right now the fields are green. Surely they have been this green before, but to my eyes they are really green. Like the sun at midday I cherish this moment.

 

Rock and Roll

Yeah! I had something other than driving to write about. Family squabbles.

Driving driving driving, all I do is driving. Concrete and asphalt, mile after mile; the time goes by in my head or on the radio, but the landscape is tops. It's OK if the hills are small, they're beautiful as hell. And then there's that ocean of gas in the sky, with the cinematic clouds.

But it's work, a lot of constant work; checking while droning, and making adjustments. Got to pilot this beast. The closer you are to the city the greater the demand. Turn the radio off and pay attention. But usually you can listen. Rock and Roll goes great downtown, through the canyons. The Big Dig deprives future generations of 91 through Boston. That was Rock and Roll!

I say that as a tourist, of course.

Party Down, Dude

 

The stars have come down from the heavens to twinkle in my back yard, giving me a moments beauty as I leave for work. Once dawn breaks green is a far better color to cover the earth than white, I tell you. Moisture in the air softens the landscape but it hasn't been hot enough for the humidity to be oppressive. In fact it's been absolutely gorgeous, mostly.

Rain was predicted for the day of the party. I kind of hoped that it would rain. I admit it, I was pissed. Miles started calling about mid morning. I didn't answer the phone. Then, about a half an hour before people were supposed to arrive I left the back door unlocked, took my laundry and went into town. “Let them shift for themselves,” I thought; and if I'm lucky maybe they'll clean the vines off of the deck.

I didn't hurry but did my standard Sunday ritual at the Upland, shuttling between the laundromat and the bar. I even stayed a little longer than usual. Not just to emphasize my passive aggressive statement; there were people there I hadn't seen in a long time, I was having a good time. Jackie was unable to make it so I had no one that I'd invited to be there for.

The yard was full of cars when I got home. Miles strode forward to greet me as I rounded the house. “Steve, it's good to see you,” he said. “We were wondering where you were.”

I grabbed him in a hug and said, “Don't ever do that again” into his ear, then released him.

“Whaa...?”

“Don't ever tell me I'm having a party two days beforehand. Don't ever tell me I'm having a party period,” I said and walked away.

I made sure that everyone knew that I'd had no advance warning on this thing, for the benefit of the others in the planning committee, and by way of apology for my lack of preparations. No one was offended. I don't think anyone even noticed. And that was that, the rest of the afternoon and early evening was spent having a good time by all, including me. Good people, good food and gorgeous weather. It wasn't Morris' sister who was coming, it was Betty, Morris' mother. That was a nice surprise. Miles was so contrite for the rest of the day that I almost felt sorry for him.

As the guests were leaving someone turned and said, “Thanks for hosting.” I had to smile to myself because I didn't host. But then I looked at the back yard and realized that I had, after all. It wasn't bad, several of the women had cleaned a little and Betty had done a sink load of dishes against my objections, bless her heart, but there was still work to do. The vines never got cleaned off of the deck either. We just didn't use the deck.

 

You're Invited

 

I was invited to a party yesterday. The party is tomorrow. It's at my house. Miles called me and said that James was going out of town and if I was going to be around they were thinking of having a get together out here. I said, sure, of course, thinking this was a last minute play. So I called James and never did hear about his move; I became preoccupied once I found out that the plans have been in the works for weeks. So I'm just an afterthought? I didn't cancel the party, but I canceled my housework. I'm not hosting. What you see is what you get.

There are two bright spots. Morris, the dude that was laid up with the motorcycle wreck, will be here, possibly with his sister from Indy. I quit worrying about Morris when he won 98% on the pool table against his brother and I. I'm merely average but his brother carries a stick. And Jackie, a Barmaid at the Pub, will finally be able to bring her sweetheart, my near neighbor whom I've never met, to a fire in my backyard.

Jackie's the only one that I invited. I just hope my resentment doesn't spoil the atmosphere before they arrive. I love this group of people and I'm glad they're going to be here at my house but I am a little put out.

There's a hole in the bottom of the sea...

Early this morning, while it was cool and the mist was rising, a deer crossed my path. On two wheels I was silent, the wind in my favor. She was grazing, a mere fifteen feet away, pointed the opposite direction. It was when I turned my bike that she got my scent and eventually bolted. I rode with her as she crossed the road.

Glory, glory, glory! There's nothing like Midsummer!