Previously, my city did the boxes in cowboys, now it is musicians. I have found these, but there may be more. How many do you recognize?
The contrast between yesterday’s walk and today’s walk was remarkable. Today’s walk was nearly 6 hours earlier in the day than yesterday. Cooler temperatures were expected–20 degrees cooler made my heat-weary body VERY happy. Texas may not welcome walkers during all hours of the day, but there are periods–even in the summertime–where it is much more inviting.
It was like the sidewalks were being rewarded for their diligence. Rain or shine, the sidewalks are there. Heat or chill they provide a path. The morning provides opportunities for shade not available later in the day. Today, the shaded areas were covered in gold dust as the trees gave up a portion of their pollen. If pedestrians and bikers can tickle its backside on a national holiday, the sidewalk will continue to bide its time during the less desirable days. If I were a sidewalk, I would have been quite pleased today. The path was oozing with people. If it were not raining people, then they seemed to be crawling out of the cracks between sections of the sidewalk. My fellow pedestrians were very thick, and they were mostly friendly. One lady paused her singing to give me a “Hello”. I preferred the distractions of her singing to the occasional phone conversation I am often forced to encounter. Even the often aloof bicyclist chose to be more social as they celebrated Independence Day.
The only negative thing–not negative for me–was the work being done today on the train tracks. This ongoing project is apparently far enough behind. The 4th of July would have to be a “triple overtime” holiday, wouldn’t, it? Holes are being dug and re-dug-certainly this could have waited just one more day. Concrete has been dislodged and repoured–apparently there are others sucked into working on this day. I hope those who chose, or were told, to work today can pause and reflect on the bounty we share in being Americans. As the case with me, I try to pause a little bit every day to reflect on the freedoms we are blessed with in this country. We don’t have to agree on everything. We should all agree on the honor due to those who were willing to sacrifice nearly 250 years ago to allow our present freedoms to be available.
With the second half of the year upon us and with my fledgling blog in dire need of attention and new ideas, I have graduated to a “2” for counting my post. It is a small thing. I am hoping it gives me more frequent inspiration than the waning days of the previous incantation.
Today, I found a near sure fire way to have the sidewalk to your self. I decided to walk in the middle of the afternoon on one of the hottest days of the year. (Over 100 degrees should easily qualify.) The humidity was low, and the breeze was light enough to keep the sweat from over accumulating on my shirt. The humidity was so low and the sweat so minimal I was concerned early on that my sweat glands had forgotten how to correctly work in the Texas climate. (We recently got back from a vacation in a cooler part of the world.)
My writing of this post proves it did not kill me. In fact, the heat is likely to inspire me to an additional posting in the VERY NEAR future.
From the notable department, I drag these tales into the light of day. I am hopeful the details have not entirely eroded from when they were first witnessed. I am hopeful I can weave a portion of the enthusiasm into the story I felt when they were viewed. They were outside of the ordinary, or at least outside of MY ordinary.
- Gasless: A husband apparently made the unfortunate decision to drive his car with a tank on fumes. As I walked up on him, he was trying to put gas in the car with the empty tank. He was too embarrassed to have his wife/girlfriend nearby as he remedied the inconvenience. His wife was sticking her head out the window of her car that was parked behind him trying to look nonchalant. He ignored her and just filled his car with every drop he could get out of the portable tank.
- Bloody Bike: There are some places on the path where bikers don’t have a clear view of what is to come. When they ride their bike at the speeds many of them find favorable, many a pedestrian has been more than startled. On this day, it was the biker who was startled. As the biker came around a blind corner where the brush was growing tall, she came upon a couple spread across the whole path with their two small dogs. When I walked into the scene, the biker was laying/sitting in the middle of the sidewalk with her glasses askew. Her hair was disheveled as she spoke on the phone. The drops of blood were still fresh and abundant. As I passed, I wished the rider well. The dog owners were doing everything I could do.
- Jake: As I was coming up on the bridge close to the house, there was a clear photographic session taking place. There was a woman with a “bursting bump”. Her props were gray styrofoam letters sitting on the top of the bridge. They were about 18 inches tall. They spelled out “J-A-K-E”. Just after I passed the scene the letter “J” blew off the bridge. I am sure they fixed the letter before taking more pictures. The would-be mother would certainly have some “ache” (ake) before Jake arrived.
- TV Works: Whether this TV was related to our TV a few years ago is doubtful, but it brought back memories. A few years ago, my son rescued a TV from the street on trash day. It wore a sign, “TV Works”. After letting the TV ripen in the garage for awhile, we decided to find out if the sign was speaking truth OR if our delay confirmed what we already suspected. Unfortunately, if the TV worked, it was outside of my skill level to make it perform. Eventually, the TV ended up on our curb during a trash day. I don’t believe it was my idea, but my son may have been responsible for attaching another sign to the TV to encourage its invitation into another home. When it disappeared from our curb, we laughed. When it appeared on someone else curb a few weeks later, we laughed even harder. On the day I was reminiscing about our earlier TV adventures, I was walking 2 miles from our house. This TV was also a large projection TV. It had a sign similar to the sign attached on our curb. (Rather the sign had blown into the street, but its purpose was similar to our own–get the TV cleared from our property by garbage man or deceit.) The TV was gone the next day. Hopefully, this time the TV found a home where it earned its keep.
The weather doesn’t really matter like it did when I was writing this blog almost daily. Spring has moved out of the way and allowed the 90’s of early summer (late summer is the 100’s with great frequency) to be the norm. The time of day also seems of much less importance. If it is the weekend, I walk as early in the day as possible. And, if it is a weekday, I usually walk before dinner with the very occasional post-dinner walk. I am slow in posting this. If I am satisfied with what I come up with, I will post this on Memorial Day.
I am not sure what possessed me to give up the daily posting I fought so hard to include as part of my 2018. As “nothing new” became ordinary, the desire to write in my blog became far less interesting. It is hard to be drawn to something that you have grown to hate because of its absolute mundaneness. After I passed the 100 mark, I sensed I would fall into the trap. Once my mind began to accept the idea of letting the posting streak die, it was not at all difficult to force “blog post” to the bottom of my priorities list. Though it resided there for a couple of weeks, it is my goal to promote it at least once a week. A boring walk is excruciating to write and read about. If not once a week, then writing whenever something notable occurs is better than neglecting it entirely.
A summary of the week’s walk (or in the case of today, a few weeks walks) will confirm a few things:
- I am still alive and have access to the internet.
- I am still capable of recognizing something of interest and describing in a way a reader can appreciate. (If not all the time, maybe more times than not.)
- I care about telling stories and when I grow up someday, I might write fiction or non-fiction or something of some lingering value.