The sun hadn’t completed it’s trek across the sky when I first began my walk so I didn’t think twice about whether I needed reflective clothing, a flashlight or anything for walking after dark.
One of my friends says my lack of forethought about light and dark is proof of male privilege because it demonstrates a lack of fear.
I just nod and smile not bothering to engage in a conversation that will go nowhere because we’ll never come to a mutually acceptable agreement.
Yes I generally walk where I want to and when I want to but I am far more aware of my surroundings than she might realize, especially when I walk through wooded areas where I might run into…critters.
Some Shmata’s Can’t Be Lost
I couldn’t find the shirt I wanted to wear today for my walk. Couldn’t find my old but trusty shmata and wondered where it could be.
Looked in the closet, dresser and hamper but didn’t see it anywhere and quickly decided there wasn’t time to waste looking for it.
It would show up sooner or later because some shmatas can’t be lost. Doesn’t matter what you do because they have their own minds and stick around for decades.
Sure they disappear and it doesn’t matter how hard you search for them because they won’t appear again until they are ready.
Can’t tell you how or why because it is one of those mysteries like what happens to the pairs of socks you put in the dryer.
There were two when you started the load but by the time you finish one has gone on a walkabout.
The good news is most of the time you will find the missing one but only when it has decided its ready but don’t expect an explanation.
You’ll never get it not because it will refuse to share the tale you deserve to hear but because it is a sock and socks don’t talk. 🙂
Three miles into my walk I am shocked by how dark the Texas sky is. It is not like LA where there are 8 million street lights but that is a good thing.
By the time mile 4 hits I decide I don’t feel like listening to Stephen King’s IT anymore. It is not because I am not enjoying it but because Pennywise has me feeling like I ought to move to something that requires less focus.
I am walking through a park and though the area is supposed to be quite safe it would be wise to be a little more aware.
Two clicks later Audible is off and the music starts playing.
Two Decades Of Adventure
Twenty-six 0r twenty-seven years ago a friend didn’t call to wish me a happy birthday.
Two weeks later I heard from them and they told me they were angry with me. Don’t bother asking about what because I am not sure I ever understood what I did wrong.
I remember being told they didn’t want to help make my day special. I thought it was childish then and I still do.
But I’ll confess having thought about doing the same because I was irritated. I don’t think I ever did follow through with not sharing a birthday greeting for that reason.
I figure if I am irritated enough not to want to wish you a Happy Birthday you probably won’t notice whether I do or not so what is the point.
And since I found it to be childish I want to be the bigger man and click Happy Birthday on Facebook because it is ever so meaningful.
Yeah folks, I am not big on the Facebook birthday greeting. It is not that I don’t appreciate getting a 198 messages encouraging me to have a great day because I do.
It is pretty cool to hear from the mix of people that make up Facebook friends.
But if you want to know what I really think here it is.
Saying Happy Birthday on Facebook is a lazy way of sending a greeting to the people you really care about.
You ought to do more like call them.
Confession, my words are semi hypocritical because I haven’t always been good about calling people. Sometimes I have taken that easy way out, but most of the time I am pretty good about picking up the phone for the people that are really important.
Walking After Midnight
The lack of lights on a cloud free night would make it easy to see stars but this evening the sky is patchy.
The Boss is setting the pace on my iTunes playlist and I silently sing along with Hungry Heart and think about how good he is at telling a story with his songs.
We move on to Thunder Road, Rosalita and Secret Garden.
By the time Tunnel of Love starts playing I am thinking I ought to have a bandana wrapped around my head because after we finish singing we’re going to light up the crowd with Born In The USA.
But before we do I have to sing along with some of my favorite lyrics.
Well, it ought to be easy ought to be simple enough, yeah
Man meets woman and they fall in love
But the house is haunted and the ride gets rough
And you’ve got to learn to live with what you can’t rise above
By the time we finish singing about learning to live what what we can’t rise above mile five has come and gone and I am starting to think about whether I want to try and double it.
My legs feel strong and I am starting to get that crazy adrenaline rush that says I haven’t begun to really test my limits.
Since is 9 and we haven’t had dinner I decide it is best not to push for another 5 but it is not easy to give it up.
Part of it is the adrenaline rush and part is looking around at how many of us are turning 50.
It doesn’t sound old to me anymore but my body clearly doesn’t respond as it once did so I need to push a bit harder to get the results I want.
And when you feel like have a little momentum you want to take advantage of it.
Later on I stand in the bathroom and flex at the reflection. I feel silly doing it and make sure the door is locked.
Just before I get ready to wash my hands and head out for dinner I spot the missing shmata.
Don’t ask me why I know it has been around for 14 years or how it suddenly appeared. Faded and worn it is more than a security blanket, even if it disappears from time to time.
Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if it disappeared for twenty years or if I found it on my pillow. There is no telling what a shmata with its own mind will do.
“I wish I had Dick Tracy’s watch.”
“Who is Dick Tracy and why do you want his watch?”
“Dick Tracy was this cool cop who had this awesome watch he could use as a phone. It did other cool stuff too.”
“Dad, it is an Apple Watch. You want an Apple Watch.”
Leave it to a 13-year-old to make Dick Tracy’s watch seem passé. I don’t care what she says, I still want it. I might have to fight Mumbles, Pruneface and Flattop one day.
Better to be prepared than not.