I was on the front porch when I walked by and waved, thrilled that the first cold arrived last week and summer was over (great!), we could put the stupid shirts away (“I let the dogs out”) and regain some fitness. The coolness of October is refreshing, making me feel hopeful, like walking down the street and hearing a kid playing Chopin’s “Piano Sonata No. 2” instead of the usual shiny Mozart painting. Finally, here are the better days.
Summer is fun for about a month, but it raises hopes for bliss that can never be achieved — the perfect tan, weight loss, picnics without the ants — and then it’s time to get back to reality. Besides, bliss is available through pharmaceutical improvements but nothing to hang your hat on. It leads to ideas in wandering sentences. become stupid.
I’m no spring chicken, I didn’t fall off the cabbage wagon, so listen up. I have for my pleasure footage of miserable vacation trips – kayaking in the new river amidst a cloud of mosquitoes – weekends at the beach, rain dripping in sheets. Then there was Key West, where a very white man could lie by the pool for 15 minutes and open the door to a world of pain and spend the week in a hotel room, avoiding all physical friction, and making small growls.
People also read…
The lesson is clear. Vacations can be horrors. Stay home, read books. If you need to travel, get a room in the Boise and bring a book with you. There is a potato museum there that is different from any I’ve seen before. Will do. Don’t be arrogant.
The problem with summer vacations is that you feel like you’re missing something they have in London, Paris, Australia, Cancun or Busch Gardens, but it’s really in your home. The beauty of winter is about coming home and staying there while a snowstorm approaches and horrific warnings are broadcast and when you get home after escaping a deadly storm your children who have treated you in disdain for weeks now throw their arms around you crying in big sighs of gratitude and orphan and avoid selling pencils in Street corner for food.
Snow and ice storms give us perspective. In the south they make us laugh. Four inches of snow, school closings, mercury falling into the abyss, it makes us happy, we turn the wheels.
You don’t come home from London that has been turned into wheels. You come home knowing you can’t speak English properly. But a good winter in the South is an adventure, the icy sidewalks are treacherous, you have to walk slowly, flat-footed, or you can slip and land at an odd angle and end up in a nine-month rehab with a unique injury Winston-Salem Baptist Hospital calls you an orthopedic department .
Knowing you’re not in control of an icy road weighs you down. So you drive slowly, very south, and come home through the storm to your crying family. They bring you hot chocolate and your favorite slippers. The wind is howling, the logs are on fire, the dog is at your feet, the children lie beside you dozing, and your wife winks in an intimate manner.
This is what life is all about. Slippers are optional, logs and fire can be moved digitally, and your dog can be a TV commentary on bass fishing, but you need the chill of a southern winter to inspire nesting and a suggestive wink.
vacations? Just stay home and wait for winter.
Readers can write to Joe at [email protected] and Facebook (offer from Hudson). He is the author of Big Decisions Are Better With Sausages.