There might be a story here

The other day, I left the tennis center to run some errands during lunchtime. The center is located in a residential area, but on a collector street that carries a fair amount of traffic. I had not accelerated much after pulling out of the parking lot, and it was probably a good thing. As I approached the first cross street, a man with no shirt was running barefoot at full speed, holding his jeans up with one hand (even though he had a belt). He did not look either direction before he went tearing across the main road into the distance. Never broke stride. What on earth was going on? I ruled out that his house was on fire, because he could have tried to stop one of the cars or run down the collector street to the police sub-station. Was he having a rendezvous with someone he should not have been and was discovered? Was he just locked out of his house and needed to get to work? I guess we will never know. But, I still wonder.

A couple of days later, in Midtown, I saw a guy walking down the street playing a guitar. Maybe there is not much mystery there (actually pretty normal for Midtown), but it made me wonder again about all the people there are in this world and all the different stories there must be on any given day. I only caught a glimpse of two.

Getting in a car changes a person

I was thinking about what I wanted to write about next, when Eddie came up with this gem. We were in the car on our way out of town and everyone was zooming by us or cutting in front of us. I asked rhetorically why there were so many jerks on the road and where did they all have to be in such a hurry, and Eddie replied with a sigh-- "Well, getting into a car seems to change a person." I thought about it for a moment. Maybe it is true. Back when I was commuting long distances to work, yelling (even screaming) at other drivers was a daily occurrence. I don't yell any other time, though (except maybe on the tennis court). I am basically a quiet, gentle person. But, in a car and in traffic, a certain aggressiveness takes over. Maybe the shield of sheet metal around us and our relative anonymity on the road makes us think we can get away with this sort of behavior. It shouldn't. What is the rush, anyway? Do people think that weaving in and out of traffic and not letting people other people merge on to the highway is really going to save them that much time? Is where you have to go so much more important than everyone else that it is okay to risk everyone else's safety by running a red light or pulling out in front of another car? Unless you have sirens and lights flashing on top of your car, I would suspect not.

Also, have you noticed how often there is an inverse relationship between the size of the person and the size of the vehicle? Our neighbors across the street have. They told us one time how they are amused by how Eddie and I (the six-footers) get into our two-door Volkswagens every day while our 5'6" neighbors get into their hulking SUV and full-size crew cab pickup truck. Come to think of it, I do see a lot of little women behind the wheel of some very large SUVs and some pretty big dudes on motorcycles. Are we trying to be something we are not through our cars? Or, is it sometimes dead on? I remember one day not long after I had purchased the GTI. It was parked next to Eddie's car on the street. He looked outside and said, "you know, the Volkswagens look pretty good together." I stood beside him and looked at the beige (blond) easygoing VW Beetle and the black (brunette) racy VW GTI and said with a smile, "yeah, they sure do."

Bah! Spring

This is next door at our neighbor's house. Over the last year, while we have been planting begonias and cultivating roses, this guy has been systematically removing 95% of the plant life from his property. He even went so far as to remove a large oak tree from the back. It must have cost thousands of dollars to do that. I joked that maybe he was getting ready to put in a grass tennis court, but it really is no joke. It is not that the fact that he made all these changes-- it is his property and he can do with it as he chooses within the city codes and ordinances and the bounds of civilized urban society. The problem is that he wants everyone around him to do the same and has engaged in aggressive and verbally abusive behavior to get his point across. Anyone that has been to our street knows what an unlikely and undesirable prospect it would be to carry out his plan to turn it into the surface of the moon. So, we try to stay out of his way and hope that he doesn't snap like so many twigs he has removed from his yard. In the meantime, it is not all bad. The roses get a lot more sun now.

Ahhh, Spring!

Winter seems to have abruptly ended around here. We woke up one morning and all the trees were green and the flowers blooming. One nice surprise was the rosebush that I thought would not make it through the winter. Instead, it grew to twice its size and covered itself with big, yellow roses. They are so fragrant, too. Every morning I go and clip at least three of them to bring inside. I don't think Mother Nature wants me to take them-- the bush is so thorny that the roses are almost too difficult to harvest. But, I manage. The other rosebush (with the orange roses) is not doing as well, but I will try to be patient with it. Maybe it will come around.

In the front yard, the snapdragons we planted last year came back with a vengeance. I guess they heard us talking about maybe pulling them out because the yellow ones did not match the pink begonias. We did not have the heart to pull them out after all, so we let them be and planted the begonias anyway. True, we could have picked something other than pink begonias, but they remind us of one of the parks in Krakow that we visited on our honeymoon, so they are the sentimental favorite.

Saluting the Spirit

A couple of weeks ago, I participated in "Saluting the Spirit--Yoga for Cancer," an event sponsored by Better Bodies Yoga and several other yoga studios in town to raise funds and awareness for the Wings Cancer Foundation. It was held at the new Cancer Survivor Park (if you live in Memphis, you should go). We set up our mats around the labyrinth (used for meditation) and did Sun Salutations for 30 minutes. I am the one in the pink shirt and black pants on the right side of the photo. (Note to self: don't wear a hoodie during Sun Salutations-- it gets in the way). Sun Salutations are 12 poses performed in a flowing, repetitive sequence. It looks really cool with a whole group doing it. The weather was beautiful and the energy was incredible. My arms were sore for 3 days afterward, but it was worth it. I dedicated my practice to my mom and my mother-in-law-- both cancer survivors.

Goodbye, old friend

Last week, we had to retire our beloved 1960's coffee pot. The poor thing probably made more pots of coffee than the ones in most restaurants. I started to smell something burning while the coffee was brewing. I finally discovered the burn marks on the end of the cord and the damaged prongs on the pot itself. After some consideration, we decided that a morning cup of coffee was not worth burning the house down. So, I went in search of a replacement. We like the percolator style because it matches the decor of the kitchen and it does not use the paper filters. One of the local antique stores had one for about $14, but they had not been open for several weeks. I went to several department/discount stores, and finally found one on the clearance rack at Sears (as if nobody else wanted one). I brought it home and immediately put it into service. Ahhh.

What's the minimum word count?

The other day, like so many days before it, someone referred to me as "so quiet." It is nothing that I have not heard before in one variation or another. "Too quiet," "so quiet," "you don't talk much, do ya?" or "you don't talk enough." It is one thing to say that someone is "quiet" or "reserved"-- those are observations. But, when the qualifier words (too, so, not enough) are used, it becomes a judgment that I think is unfairly applied. The implication is that we are not normal or that there is something wrong with us. I wholeheartedly disagree. Now, I realize that these comments typically come from people that talk constantly and are insecure about it. Putting me or other "quiet people" down affirms them and makes them feel better about themselves. (That is my observation or judgment). Personally, I would rather be around someone that doesn't feel the need to fill every waking second with conversation or babbling or flat-out noise as it becomes sometimes. But, since I hear this so often, I am wondering-- what is the minimum word count, anyway? I must have missed that memo or was not listening when some extrovert shouted it from the rooftop. What I do is speak when someone speaks to me or when I have something to say. If I don't have anything to say, I don't say anything. If I have work to do, I do not talk, unless my work involves a meeting or telephone call. It is an effective system for me, but apparently not for the talking police. I seem to be falling short of the word quota. If someone could give me some guidelines for basic conversational situations, I will see what I can do.

You know, there is one person in this world that stands out above all others as someone that has NEVER told me that I am too quiet or that I do not talk enough. His name is Eddie Branch. What does that say to you?