I saw it happening some time ago. I would look in the mirror and wonder what my dad was doing here. But more recently, other people have started pointing it out too. I am sure it has nothing to do with the fact that we now have the same hair color.
My mom and dad.
Maureen and me
Take a good look my son. This is the face you will see in the mirror in years to come.
Just a few of the statues that grace the outfield at what used to be known as Comiskey Park.
The bronze statue of Luis Aparicio waiting for the toss from Nellie Fox.
And a bronze Nellie Fox making the toss.
Billy Pierce in the streatch.
And of course, Frank Thomas.
Posted in Baseball, Chicago, Photos, White Sox
Tagged Billy Pierce, Bronze, Frank Thomas, Luis Aparicio, Nellie Fox, Photos, White Sox
Pictures!
It is a little hard to see, but our Lilac Bushes were home to a couple dozen butterflies for a few days this Spring.
The purple irises in our front yard were really cool this year.
Warm weather for The South Side Irish Parade, brought these early blooms. I have no idea what type of flowers they are.
And just to show that not everything this Spring was purple, this was an unexpected surprise in the garden. Two years ago I planted an onion that had started to grow in our pantry. After nothing last year, we have a little onion patch this year. But I will have to give my mom a call. How do you know when they are ready to harvest?
I have to start with a confession. I have never protested anything in my life. That is unless you count the time in high school when four or five of us walked around for a day with black armbands on, pissed off because we couldn’t leave school early for a planned trip downstate for the wrestling championships. We had already been excused from school, but for some reason we decided to go to a couple of classes before we hit the road. Once there, we were told that we now could not leave until the end of the school day. See, if we had just stayed away from school, everything would have been fine. Our excuses had already been called in, and no one would have said a thing about the missing seniors that day, but because we actually showed up, we would not be allowed to leave early. So in protest of such unfair treatment, we wore black armbands for the rest of the day.
The idea of taking part in a protest always sounds grand to me, but to be real honest, it also sounds like a pain in the ass. I have said it before, and I will say it again, the real problem here is that in general, I don’t like people. I especially don’t like large crowds of people. Large pushy crowds of people chanting would be a living hell for me. I am not against the actual act of protesting, what I am against is a protest going on with me in the middle of it.
Hold on, let’s back this up a minute. Our right to protest and speak out against our government is one of the basic rights that makes this country as great as it is, but let’s put the right to protest into a little bit of context here. Although we have a right to free speech and assembly, only time will tell us if that protest was indeed just. No one would dispute that the protest done by Martin Luther King, Jr. helped change the direction of our country, and that individual protestors like Rosa Parks brought light to a system that is now seen as despicable. But what about those protestors on the other side of the civil rights issue?
History has not been kind to those who protested in support of keeping schools segregated.
Don’t confuse the right to protest with a protest being in the right. History does not look fondly on the faces of those who protested against the desegregation of schools, but was their right to protest any less a right just because history has shown them to be wrong. And how do we know that the causes we protest for and against today, may not turn out to be just as despicable when history has had its say.
I have immense respect for those who can carry on a peaceful protest, and have nothing but disdain for those that feel the only way to get their message heard is to wear black masks and cause chaos and destruction. Both will be seen this weekend in Chicago as the NATO Summit arrives. Either way, I will not be there. I will lend my support to those who want to be peacefully heard, and I will also fully support those who have been charged with trying to keep the peace during these days. But my support will have to come from afar. Or at least as far away as my backyard 25 miles from downtown.
I make my escape from downtown Chicago for this weekends NATO Summit.
Posted in Chicago, protesting
I am not old!
That is what I keep trying to tell myself, although the fact that my oldest child is turning 21 today does seem to argue against that statement. She is having a little get together with some of her friends tonight, and she was kind enough to extend me an invitation. I politely declined. I know there are some parents that would jump at the opportunity to start partying with their newly legal children, but I am not one of them. The last thing I wanted on my twenty-first birthday was for my parents to see me drunk as a skunk. Even worse, I really didn’t want to see them that way either. So I wish Stephanie a wonderful birthday, and please have a safe plan for getting home. And have some fun. You will be paying for it tomorrow morning.
We have all heard our kids say it. “Things are different today.” And I have always been one to defend the fact that human nature as a whole has really not changed all that much in the past twenty-six years since I turned 21 in 1986. But the more I start to look at it, the world really has made some giant steps in just the short time between my 21st birthday and my daughter’s.
Yeah, you saw it coming, Another Top Ten List.
The Top Ten Changes in the World Since My 21st Birthday
#10 - Drinking
By the time I reached my twenty-first birthday, I had already been drinking legally for three years in the State of Wisconsin. In the early 1970′s, most states lowered their legal drinking age down to 18 after the passage of the 26th Amendment. Since it lowered the voting age to 18, most states felt it was then ok to also lower the drinking age. But in 1984, Congress passed the Drinking Age Act, which did not require states to raise their drinking age, but it did threaten to take federal highway money away if they didn’t. Illinois had already raised the drinking age back up to 21 in 1980, but Wisconsin took a two-step jump. In 1984, the age was raised to 19, and although I would not turn 19 until later that year, I was grandfathered in because I was already 18 at the time the law changed. The second step was taken in 1986, and once again I skirted the change. While doing some research on this topic, I did come across the fact that it is still legal for someone under 21 to drink in Wisconsin, as long as it is in the presence of and with the consent of their parent or a legal guardian. No one tell this to my son!
#9 - Smoking
When I started going to bars, even before I started drinking, they were dimly lit, smoke-filled places were loud music played and people shouted above all the noise at each other. Most of that is still true today, except for the part about smoking. In 2008, the Smoke-Free Illinois Act banned smoking in and within 15 feet of any public building. We were not ahead of the curve on this one, but since then smoking has been banned in most states and many countries around the world. In just 25 years, smoking went from being something that all the cool kids did, to being demonized to such an extent that the appearance of a single cigarette in a movie will instantly give it a PG-13 rating. I am not a smoker, and never have been, but even I have been amazed at how a once accepted standard has been put out to pasture. That is until the cows start complaining.
#8 Gambling
As far as I can remember, back in 1986, the only place to gamble legally was in Las Vegas and Atlantic City, and at the time, Illinois was only one of 11 states that had a lottery. Other than that, the only other legal gambling was Bingo on the Indian reservations. But after a series of law suits in California, the Indian Gaming Regulatory Act was passes in 1988, allowing reservations to also include card games, but in the original legislation, it was restricted to games played against other opponents, not the house. After more law suits, the law was expanded to include all games of chance as well as slot machines. Not surprisingly, the biggest opposition came from lobbyist for Nevada. Once this door was opened, Iowa became the first state to legalize Riverboat Casinos, but the law stipulated that gambling could only occur while the boat was traveling and away from the dock. Other states soon followed suit, and soon the restriction of being “off shore” was lifted, and the Riverboat Casinos became a come as you want 24 hour a day venture.
#7 – Hair
No, not the musical. Mine. As in, when I was 21 I looked like this:
Brother Tom, circa 1986
Now I look like this:
Brother Tom 25 years later!
#6 - Architecture
In 1986, the Sears Tower was the tallest building in the world. A title it held until 1998, when the Petronas Towers in Malaysia surpassed it. But that was met with a lot of controversy, since the twin antennae on top of the Sears Tower actually surpassed Petronas in total height. Even though Sears was more than 20 floors higher, the decorative spires atop of Petronas we ruled to be part of the building structure, and therefore it claimed the title of World’s Tallest Building. But in the long run, it was all to be a moot point, as they were both soon to be surpassed by Taipei 101 in Taiwan, and then completely overshadowed by the Dubai Tower in 2009. That same year, the Sears Tower was bought by a London-based insurance company, and the name of the building was changed. Many in the great city of Chicago, myself included, have refused to adopt the new name for the building. Change the name of the Sears Tower? What are you talkin’ about…..
#5 - The Glass Ceiling
Although the sexual revolution and women’s lib had come and gone, most families in 1986 still consisted of a father who went to work, and a mom that stayed home. But then on September 8, 1986, just two months after my 21st birthday, something happened that changed everything. The Oprah Winfrey show debuted in Chicago. Now, I am not silly enough to say that Oprah changed the world, but hell, maybe she did. Like her, Love her or Hate her, there is no denying that she set a standard for women that has kept on expanding ever since. Heads of industry, CEO’s of major companies, political front-runners, all former male dominated fields that women have made major strides in, trying to collapse that glass ceiling. Sure, we have not all the way there yet. Virginia Rometty did not get her invitation to join Augusta as so many other male CEO’s of IBM have been offered in the past, but there is no denying that 2012 is much more welcoming and full of potential for my daughter than it was back when I was 21.
#4 - Gas Prices
The average price of a gallon of gas in 1986 was 93 cents. The average price of a gallon of milk in 1986 was $2.22. Just the other day, I went to Costco and bought a gallon of milk for $1.68. Do I need to say more?
#3 The Super Stations
In 1978, WGN began selling their broadcast into other smaller markets. There was nothing fancy about it. They just took money from other markets, and they would just broadcast the WGN signal, the same as if it was right here in Chicago. But then in 1989, the rules changed, and the individual markets had exclusive rights to syndicated programing, and so those stations that carried the WGN signal had to black them out any time a syndicated re-run was shown, which was the main programing for WGN outside of baseball games and the local news. So to combat this problem. in January of 1990, WGN started a national broadcasting company called WGN America, and the Super Station format was born. Since that time, we have seen this same concept adapted by other businesses. The Super Stores of Wal-Mart and Sam’s Club and Costco have taken over the world, and the idea of a mom and pop store is almost a thing of the past. It seems like these days, just about everything is Super Sized.
#2 Chicago Sports
On January 26, 1986, the Chicago Bears won Super Bowl XX, slaughtering the New England Patriots 46 to 10. It was the only major Chicago sports championship within my lifetime. And before I hear any whining from the soccer geeks, the Chicago Sting championships of 1981 and 1984 do not count as a MAJOR sports championship. How important could they have really been? The Sting folded just four years after their last championship. The important part is that since that time, Chicago has won six NBA championships, a World Series, and the Stanley Cup. Since that time, Comiskey Park has been torn down and rebuilt, redesigned, and then ultimately re-named. The old Chicago Stadium is no more, and has been replaced by the modern United Center. Even Solder Field got a facelift. The entire face of Chicago sports has changed over the past 26 years. That is until you look towards the North Side. I guess some things never change.
#1 Technology
I could have done this entire list on just the advancements in technology since I was 21. Land lines and typewriters are almost non-existent; replaced by cell phones and laptop computers. We have seen the birth of the VHS machine, only to be replaced by DVD and then Blu-Ray. The vinyl record album was pushed out by the CD and now even old farts like me have an iPod that stores more music than a whole bookshelf of vinyl. Special effects in movies are something I never dreamed of as a kid, and Pixar opened up a whole new world of digital animation. And then there is that whole internet thing that Al Gore invented. World Book officially stopped printing their encyclopedia, replaced instead by Wikipedia. Social Media and Facebook may be the ultimate downfall of modern civilization, that is unless Words with Friends or Mafia wars takes over first. But there is still one old friend from 1986 I am not ready to give up yet. I am not ready to replace a good old fashioned book with one of those Kindle things. A guy has to draw the line somewhere.
Happy Birthday, Stephanie. I can’t wait to see what wonderful things await us by the time your kids are 21.
On second thought, I can wait!
Although I have been known to complain about my age from time to time, I am still a little too young to remember the playing days of Moose Skowron, but I was lucky enough to know the man. He may not be the first name people think of when talking about those Yankee teams that won all those World Series titles in the fifties and early sixties, but any baseball historian will tell you he played an important part in winning four of those championships, and also won a fifth ring with the Dodgers in 1963, batting .385 in the series to beat his former team. Over his 14 year career, he was an All-Star eight times, was a .282 lifetime hitter, drove in 888 runs, and hit 211 home runs. But what all the stats won’t tell you is that Moose was one of the most generous ambassadors for the game of baseball, and that anyone who got a chance to talk to him, left with a smile on their face that would last for hours.
On more than one occasion, I had the pleasure to eat lunch with Moose, and every meal with him was an adventure of its own. It didn’t take much to get him to start talking, and when he did, the tales he spun were priceless. Yogi Berra, Joe DiMaggio, Roger Maris and his traveling roommate Mickey Mantle, were just part of the cast of characters who stared in his stories. Although many times if there were ladies around, he would only tell the PG-13 version of the tales.
My favorite Moose moment involved my son, Alex. Alex was only about 10 or 11 at the time, and he had been pondering about the 1955 World Series, and the fact that Jackie Robinson had stollen home during the first game. He had been talking about it for a few days, and when he happened to ask me if I thought Robinson was safe or out, I told him I honestly didn’t know, but that maybe he should ask someone who was there that day. That was when I pointed to Moose. Somewhat sheepishly, we walked over to Moose and I introduced my son to him. And then very quietly, Alex started to ask his question, but before he could even finish, Moose started on about how Yogi said he was out. With the same passion as if it had just happened, he rambled about the day and the play and what a lousy call it was. My son was now staring back with eyes as big as dinner plates.
Moose passed away early this morning. He was 81 years old, and to the end he was a fan favorite in both Chicago and New York. He took with him a piece of baseball history, but thanks to his endless gift of gab, he has shared some of that history with countless numbers of people, myself and my son included. He is an irreplacable part of the game that has become such a big part of my life, and he will be missed by many.
But something tells me that God is getting himself a pretty good earful right about now.
In Ireland, those who live in Dublin claim their fair city as the quintessential Irish town. No place is more Irish than Dublin. The entire rest of the country has united to disagree. As I have stated before, Dublin is the Manhattan of Ireland. Only they get it.
Our honeymoon trip was drawing to an end, with only ONE more day in Dublin city. I personally like Dublin, but it is a city. So if you’re used to quaint Irish towns that would make gorgeous postcards, Dublin is going to be a huge letdown.
Dublin is actually going to be an even bigger letdown when you have a 2 hour ride that turns into a 4 hour ride. So as we left Cashel, we drove into the interior, where all the treacherousness was, to find out, it was indeed there. Even on the bigger carriageways, there was ice all over the place, and to me, Dublin seemed like a wonderful place to ditch the blasted car and walk or take cabs.
Dublin has a lot of history, clearly, and a lot of interesting sights to see, if you decide not to take a long nap when you get there, which is what we did. So of course, we ended up in the pub, getting a terrible bite to eat while we planned our night. We had two choices: go see the book of Kells at Trinity College, or go the Guinness Brewery. We slept through everything else. Well, what would you do?
The Guinness Brewery is actually fascinating. There are five floors of Guinness making history and information. We gave a cursory glance to the screens, oohed over the water displays, and made our way to the tasting area for a quick shot of beer, where we joined all of the college kids who paid the entry fee to sit in the tasting area and drink all of the samples. How lucky are they? I went to school in the capital of beer (Milwaukee) and our brewery that turned a blind eye to this was Pabst. Pabst. (Until Lakefront Brewery came along – but I digress).
We made it through the rest of the floors, until the top, which can be one of the more spectacular sights – the Gravity Bar!
I have been there at all hours of the day – and the best time to go is at dusk. We were there at night, so we couldn’t really see the 360 view that the entirely glass-walled bar provides high above Dublin. Tom sort of got the idea, but by this time, it was just a crowded bar. We decided to hit the gift shop and continue our night in an area unknown to me, but recommended by our cab driver. I didn’t think Tom was a Temple Bar kind of guy, so we took his recommendation.
I will admit that I am kind of a finicky eater, so I take time choosing a restaurant. I don’t know why. In the 5+ years that Tom and I have been dating, he almost always wins the better plate award. I have expressed this to others, and they have observed this bizarre, and slightly unfair phenomenon. So, it doesn’t really matter, because no matter where we go, he will have a good plate, and I probably will not.
Being the good sport he is, we walked around for a long time, because we don’t have reservations on a Dublin Saturday night, stopped at the ATM, where Tom found another reason to hate Dublin: the gypsies and panhandlers beg literally from under the ATM. They sit right under the ATM, and no one chases them away. So in order to get money, Tom had to use the ATM with a gypsy right at his feet. (I like to think I would have given him a little kick.) And then I picked the ANTI-Tom restaurant.
It’s over a year, but I believe it was tapas. And since I lived in Spain, I love all things Espanol. I was Espanol before Madonna went through that phase. Tom likes tapas, but we don’t like the same ones. It didn’t matter, this place was trendy and bad and crowded and not the type of place we like at all. Especially the bi*ch who, when Tom adjusted his chair after using the restroom told him to watch it and gave him the ugliest look I have ever seen on anyone in my life, truly ever. I almost got up and socked her in the eye. It was a super-crowded restaurant, and Tom did apologize, profusely. And she was just plain rude. In the words of one of the greats, Hannibal Lecter, “Rudeness is unspeakably ugly to me.”
We ditched that place with a quickness – bad food and bad people and made our way, to, you guess it! The Pub. Once again, we took a stroll before we decided on a place, and it ended up being ok. Except it looked like a crime scene – which it wasn’t – it just had yellow construction tape all over the place, even in the men’s room. Only us.
We spent the night with a very few leisurely pints observing and commenting on the regulars, spending our last night like weary Dubliners.
Later on, Tom told me he wasn’t a fan. I told him we were tired, and we really didn’t see or do anything except watch the inside of our eyelids, and the bottom of our glasses. I will try and convince him next time! Or the next day when we had a 6 hour delay at the airport!
Posted in ireland, Our Ireland Holiday
Although we considered staying an extra night in Dingle, because it’s AWESOME, the voice of reason, Tom reminded me that these long drives don’t agree with me, and it would be best to get on the road and find our next stop.
Confession time: I’m the most disorganized person on the planet, EXCEPT when it comes to vacation. I’m like the Clark W. Griswold of Ireland. My time there is limited, and I must maximize my opportunity and take advantage of ALL there is to see and do and drink and eat and talk. I spend months researching the B&Bs, I use Google Maps to plan the route, I cross reference the B&Bs on an excel spreadsheet and I chart possible restaurants, detours, places of interest, and in this case, potential stops for our “Fly by the seat of our pants night.”
Tom and I have been planning a trip to Ireland for years, and way long ago, he asked, “Why can’t we just get in the car and drive, do we really need an itinerary?” I probably rolled my eyes and definitely scared the shit out of his with my resounding “YES!” You need one, because Ireland kicks so much ass, that you would stay in the first place you stopped for the time, and end your trip only having been in one place. You need an itinerary to keep you moving, because Ireland is like drinking at Finley’s during the day when there’s a game: You start early, intending to leave early, you maybe think you might go to dinner or meet some friends that live in the city at another bar, but when it all comes down to it, you’re there at closing time with Kevin and Laura and maybe Julie, with just the one bar to show for your visit to the city. The entire nation of Ireland is like this.
So we approach the car (I’m eying it balefully because I hate the bastard), “with no direction known” and exit Dingle for our treacherous ride over the mountains, and listen to the jerk on the radio telling us NOT to drive in the interior of the country, it’s far too dangerous. We have to go to the interior, because we have to get to Dublin to catch our flight in two days, and the only way to Dublin is through the interior. So we drive in the general direction of Dublin. Tom mentions Cashel, but I would like to get to Tullamore, where the roads are extremely treacherous. This drive would not be exhausting, but irritating, as it is windy and rainy but people are scared of snow, so no one on the road travels over 20km/hr. The two hour trip to Cashel takes about 4 to 5.
As we get closer, Tom thumbs through the guide book for ideas. He mentions an estate in Ireland. We have no map of this part, so we follow the signs for Cashel, hoping to run into signs for the town where the estate is located. We do find signs, and find ourselves on the worst nightmare an American tourist in Ireland could imagine: the one lane country road.
Here’s another little helpful tidbit about driving in Ireland: the don’t just post the main arteries – if there’s a way to take a one lane road, two hairpin turns, and a footbridge to a locale, they will post signs stating that this is the direction, if it will, eventually, get you there. This was one of those times. After meandering the snow and ice covered one way path, a few run-ins with a milk truck, and some serious stress level in the car, we ditched the estate idea, and decided just find a home for the night and some pints.
I dropped Tom off at the local tourism office and circled the perimeter of the downtown area, located right blocks away from the main attraction – The Rock of Cashel, which is not really a rock, but a former castle and monastery, among other things. I could bore you with historic details about St. Patrick banishing the devil from a cave and the rock landing in Cashel, but let’s just say it’s really cool old broken stuff with amazing views in the middle of town.
The Cashel Tourism Office was Closed!
I collect Tom from the tourism office, where he had no luck, and we decide to go door-to-door, slightly less like Jesus and Mary, in search of a bed for the night. All around the rock are tons of signs for B&Bs. The first one is full, the second one is closed for the season, and finally, I take him to a third where we get a room. We grab our stuff, head upstairs, relax, take naps, hit the potty, etc and make our way out to hit the town. Before we leave, Tom looks in the nightstand (Why? I don’t know) and locates the Book of Mormon. Even if you’re not Irish, you probably know that most of the country is Roman Catholic -divorce was legalized in 1995 and you can forget about abortion. Leave it to us to stumble upon the only Mormons.
Once again, we wind up at a large dinner we didn’t need but was extremely delicious (we might be the only people to have gained weight in Ireland), and hit the pubs. We walk around a bit, a little leery, because most of them don’t have windows and we don’t know what we’re getting into because we can’t look in. This is common in Ireland, but we just haven’t become accustomed to it. We end up at the end of the main street, have one beer and leave. It was like the Bennigan’s of Cashel. We don’t like them here, so why bother? We then select a gamble, meaning we can’t see inside, but it looks ok, and if it’s not we can always gamble on another pub.
The town itself is an interesting mix of ruin and commerce. One of our favorite sights was an cool, old, broken, building with an Indian restaurant jutting out of the side of it. They can’t tear it down, because it’s historic and protected, so just add on the Indian restaurant. So just imagine a quaint, picturesque town with charming storefronts and lovely ruins, with a grocery store in the bottom. It’s pretty hilarious.
So in we go to our second pub, and it’s fairly similar to Sean Thornton’s stop at his first pub in Ireland, in that he ordered a beer, and tried to make polite conversation and at first, no one responded. Tom and I scored a table by the fire (big bonus – it was cold that day and these people are not crazy about heat) and the TV so that we could watch the local rugby game. Just wait it out- they’ll talk to us – we learned that at Dick Mack’s. At some points, I tried to discuss rugby with the guys at the next table and was met with extremely curt answers. Ooookay. So then I go outside for the bathroom and a smoke. In places where bars are old, bathrooms were considered a luxury, so most of them are add-ons or in other buildings not connected. The smoking area is under a heat lamp between the two buildings. As I exit, I note that the gentlemen from the next table are out there and I decide to join them.
Having visited Ireland right after their smoking ban was effected, and dealing with it in Chicago, one thing non-smokers might not know is that they are social havens. People banned outside to smoke join together, sometimes even longer than they intended. Apparently these guys didn’t get the memo. I got a lighter, and a curt nod. That’s it.
I walk into Tom and said, “We need to break them. We have to wait it out.” And we both get that tired look on our faces. He says he thinks it’s going to be an early night, and I agree. We’d had a late night last night with Sean and Fiona and all of their shenanigans. Which means the curse was broken. As soon as you claim that it’s not going to be an early night, out comes the whiskey and the singing, and that’s exactly what happened. Our taciturn neighbor, as it turns out, was not named Curt, but Jerry, and I convinced Tom that we didn’t have a far walk and he should enjoy his favorite vice, some good Irish whiskey. Jerry and I eventually became friends, and we closed the bar, as per usual. Not wanting to break tradition, we went to Abrakebabra for some late night food we didn’t need. After a mild issue with a drunken teenager (way worse than us), we stumbled into the night and onward to our confirmedly weird hosts. When we mentioned their name earlier in conversation with our new friends, they said the family that runs our B&B was strange. In Irish terms, that could mean they are serial killers.
We wake up late, after setting the alarm, and head down for our Mormon breakfast in an interestingly decorated room. We linger a bit over coffee and oatmeal, eggs and yogurt, and decide to pack up the car, and make our way to the Rock. As it is literally just down the block, we will walk.
CLOSED DUE TO WEATHER.
And when we got back to our car, we had a parking ticket. But that didn’t stop us from taking some pics and having a good time. Now it has become a goal – one day we will make it there – and we will get inside!
Posted in ireland, Our Ireland Holiday
In some recent debates with my 15-year-old son, I have found myself quoting, of all people, Jeff Goldblum. Well, I guess not him directly, but the character he played in Jurassic Park, Dr. Ian Malcolm. In the movie, when it is discovered that the all male dinosaurs have somehow managed to lay eggs and reproduce, Goldblum’s character speaks the line, “Life finds a way.”
I spoke the line myself in a conversation that seemed to stun my son. I am a bit of a realist, and I am not one to believe in wild theories or conspiracies. I don’t think the CIA assassinated JFK, or that September 11th was an inside job. I am not heavily religious, but I am also not an atheist. I mostly believe in the things I can see and touch. So with all this in mind, I told my son I believed there was life other than ours, somewhere out in space. Now, I also backed that up with the statement that I did not believe that space aliens had visited earth to kidnap people or build the pyramids.
My son, somewhat of a realist himself, but young and more open to persuasion by anyone other than his father, told me that the odds of there being life on another planet was one in a million. I agreed, but then pointed out that here we were. And I agreed it was a one in a million chance that everything pulled together in just the right way to produce our planet, but with billions and billions of stars, and an unknown amount of planets orbiting some of those stars, the chances are good that somewhere out there, life must have found a way.
Before this past winter started, I did not clear off the deck as I usually do. Nice weather and a busy schedule, and I will admit a little bit of lazy, resulted in me keeping our plant boxes right were they sat all summer, propped up on the rail of our back deck. The worst winter in decades that the weather people had promised back in September never came to be, and now here in the middle of March we are having summer-like weather. This past Thursday night, I pulled the chairs out of the garage, and Maureen and I officially opened up Deck Season with a couple of beverages outside under the stars. Our next door neighbor even joined us for a couple, and we could hear other people outside somewhere talking in the warm night.
It wasn’t until this morning that I finally stepped back out onto the deck in daylight with the intention of yanking all of the dead plants out of those boxes that I got a good look at what was happening. Although all of the flowers in the boxes were listed as annuals, somehow in the mild winter and early spring, life has once again found a way. Under the dead growth, green leaves and even some fresh buds had started to grow. So I changed my plans and did what I could to clear out as much of the dried brown stuff that I could. It wasn’t easy to pull just the old stuff without disturbing the new, as much of the new green was intertwined with the dead growth. But I am anxious to see what becomes of the new plants that made it through the winter.
After a mild winter, life has found a way back into our flower boxes.
So there we have it. Life has once again found a way. This time it is just to the little universe of my flower boxes, but soon it will expand to our entire yard, and then the neighborhood, and yes, maybe even the universe.
Posted in Gardening, life lesson
