Wedded Brrrr

I went to a wedding last night in a nearby town, the bride a former co-worker of my wife.  I went under mini-protest because this was the weekend of an annual festival in my home town that I look forward to all year.  Needless to say I lost that argument.  I had a good time at the wedding but I spent part of the time thinking back to the time I was missing.  I was a huge hero with my wife by recommending she wear her warmest coat.  This was because the wedding ceremony was outside and the reception in a tent right next to it.  Note to all future brides – late October in central Massachusetts is too late in the season for an outdoor wedding.  The entire wedding party, with the sleeveless gowns had pronounced goose bumps.  While the tent had two underperforming space heaters, our table was right by the entrance with a huge opening allowing a steady breeze.   My wife had initially decided to wear a short, stylish jacket and I told her she should go warmer.  As we sat at the reception and the temperature fell into the thirties she kept thanking me over and over again.  My wife, a native of Panama, does not handle cold, or even cool well.  Something I’ve noticed over the last few years at weddings is the interminable wait while the photographer takes the official wedding photos.  Granted, there is usually a cocktail hour while everyone else waits, something I am personally a big fan of; however I think it’s gotten a little out of hand.  I know most photographers are very creative types and they have most wedding parties at their mercy for that time period.  Last night it was really noticeable as everyone shivered waiting for them to finish up.  When we went up for the first dance I almost fell on my face during my first move, such as it was.  I did not realize that my feet had almost frozen being in the breeze from the open door.  My wife assumed I had spent too much time at the bar but I went on to redeem myself as the feet warmed up.  I also noticed how disjointed a reception can be with a bad DJ and the one last night was egregious.  Despite all of this we had a good time which I attribute to my date – she has the ability to elevate what would be less than ideal circumstances – I get the assist with the warm coat recommendation.  We ended the evening with the wife driving home, I did spend some time at the bar, which is always an adventure (her driving, not my time at the bar, well sometimes…).

Teeming

Something I’ve observed over the past few years is just how crowded we’re getting.  I know the population has doubled since I was a kid and I am noticing it in a bunch of small ways.  I can remember long drives from my youth or early in my military career when I would have the road to myself for long stretches of the late night or early morning.  Nowadays that is rare.  I was out at 3am a couple of weeks ago and the roads were semi-busy.  Last week I was driving through some really remote regions and there were houses everywhere instead of the long stretches of uninhabited roads I grew up with.  Those days are gone.  This isn’t a nostalgic rant carping for the good ole days; it’s just that there are a lot more people than there used to be.  A lot of 1970s science fiction movies predicted that society would fail and descend into apocalypse by this time because we wouldn’t have the space or food for the burgeoning population; typical 1970s apocryphitic thinking.  I’m encouraged that we seem to have found a way to feed and house almost everybody despite doubling the requirement.  My mother always cajoled me at the dinner table (I was/am a very picky eater) as I was staring down at the rapidly cooling brussels sprouts that – “There are starving children in India that would love to have that food”.  She was less than impressed with my suggestion we send all brusells sprouts and lima beans to them.  I know there are still areas struggling with hunger but not the extensive famines that permeate my memories from childhood.  I think the end of the cold war had a lot to do with that.  I’ve always hated being crowded but I guess we’re stuck with it.  At least we’re handling it better than anyone predicted.

Dogged Conversations

I am an unabashed lover of the canine species.  I was raised around dogs and currently have a black lab with a lot of personality. Although I like most animals, with a strong exception of canaries, dogs will always have my unabashed love.  There is a primeval connection between man and dog that goes back to Cro-Magnon days.  A dog will always be happy to see you, even if the last thing you did was yell at him.  A dog is great company, like a lifelong friend, silently content just to be in the room with you – no conversation needed.  Dogs seem to sense when you’re down and need some affection.  Maybe I’ve been lucky in my life with the dogs I’ve had.  The only down side (other than feces patrol) is having to say goodbye at the end of their all too short a life span.  A couple of years ago we lost two absolutely beloved golden retrievers and I was affected for months – I can still tear up remembering them.  Over the last few days, my current dog, Buddy (I’ll cover how we acquired each other in another blog), has decided he wants to have conversations.  Last night as I was trying to watch a movie he apparently thought I was being too sedentary and launched into a long diatribe or barks, whines, and other vocalizations I didn’t realize he was capable of.  He just came in from outside so he wasn’t asking to go out again.  I started answering him and before long we were having an actual conversation, of course not understanding a single thing the other was saying.  At the end we both sat back in contented correlation.  My wife sat in bemused audience of this performance, I’m sure wondering if I had finally gone over the edge.  God, I love dogs.

Date Night Interruptus

I have a 40 mile commute each way to get to work. Last night I had just gotten home when I received a call that there had been a serious accident at work that required my return, right back into the teeth of afternoon rush hour traffic.  Tuesday night is my traditional date night with the wife.  Those dates are usually a dinner and a movie in the local area.  In an effort to salvage something I offered to take her with me and drop her off at a mall that she loves but is too scared to drive herself to.  She thought this was a great idea despite the fact she had already been shopping all day with friends.  My wife can shop.  Seriously, we’re talking world class ability here.  She is currently on a quest to find shoes to match a dress she is wearing to a wedding we’ll be attending this weekend. While I dealt with issues at the office she scoured this high end mall.  We met up and decided to grab dinner at a nearby restaurant, which we did, after stopping at four other stores in a fruitless attempt at securing the elusive shoes.  I usually hate shopping with a white hot passion (no exaggeration), but last night was kind of fun just hanging with the wife.  We ended up having a great time at dinner and were able to talk during the long drives there and back.  Bad situation at work, forced into shopping, no success in shopping, extra long drives transformed into a great evening – go figure.

Déjà Vu Bliss

My daughter and son in law, both really nice people (even if I am a little bit biased), gave me the ESPN series 30 for 30 for Father’s Day.  I have been making my way steadily through the series of great documentaries about sports over the last thirty years. I wrote earlier in the blog about how disenchanted I was with sports in general after a lifetime as an avid fan.  These movies have helped as they capture some of the real drama and important life lessons sports can provide.  Last night was special because I finally reached the one about the 2004 Boston Red Sox which chronicled their impossible comeback against the hated Yankees. Anyone who grew up in New England as a Red Sox fan will always remember that October as one of the most special times of their lives.  People outside of New England cannot understand the impact this had.  The Red Sox, especially after the impossible dream season of 1967, were beloved and that love was rendered despite the repeated heartbreaks.  There was always a feeling that they would find a way to lose, usually in the most devastating fashion, but there was always hope, despite mountains of evidence to the contrary.  Those October nights in 2004 were the last time I was actually over the top crazy about a sporting event, literally screaming in delight over those lovable, self styled idiots.  There is another documentary made by HBO I believe called Reverse the Curse which goes into more depth about what winning it all meant for the people of New England.  It shows people visiting cemeteries to share the moments with departed Red Sox fans and usually composed speakers being unable to adequately describe their feelings because they are overcome with emotion.  Well last night, thanks to the two special people who gave me films, I got a chance to relive those moments again and I choked up all over again.  

Early to Rise

One of the biggest changes serving in the military made with me was getting up early in the morning.  I have always been a self-described “night owl”.  I hated to going to bed at night and would commonly stay up well after mid-night.  Prior to the military, this meant I usually wouldn’t get up until 10am, at the earliest, unless I had to.  Needless to say the military did not agree with my civilian biorhythms.  It probably helped a great deal that the first exposure to my new military lifestyle involved non-optional early morning wake ups by drill sergeants.  These drill sergeants always seemed really pissed off that we were still in bed, even though it was 4am, probably because they had to get up even earlier.  Throughout my military career I rarely slept later than 5am, usually in order to get up for physical training.  When I retired I looked forward to sleeping in more but alas I have been permanently altered.  I find I cannot sleep later than 7am, I always wake up thinking I’m late for something.  I still stay up later at night than my wife would like but she understands.  Nowadays I get up at 4:30 every day so I can get out for a run prior to leaving for work.  As I was running this morning I reflected that it didn’t even bother me – now that’s kind of scary.

The Road Not Taken

My Wife at the Waterfalls

 

The Flower Bridge

Yesterday was my sightseeing trip to the Berkshire Mountains with my bride.  I took the day off from work and we had a fantastic day although the weather was a little dreary.  The best part about the day was the complete lack of schedule or itinerary.  We wandered through the yellowing woods.  The scenery was beautiful wherever we turned so I made the effort to follow back roads instead of the major highways that would have delivered us more quickly.  We saw so much more using the back roads and were able to talk since traffic was not an issue.  We stopped in a small village at a diner for lunch and the village had some impressive waterfalls and an old bridge that had been converted into a flower garden.  We saw the massive damage caused by the Hurricane Irene flooding.  It warmed my heart to see my fellow industrious Yankees hard at work repairing the damage. These are things we would have missed if we had stayed on the major roads.  We ended up in southern Vermont and stopped by a mountaintop where we had spread my mother’s ashes a few years ago.  We were so close to my home town by the end of the day that we dropped in and surprised an old friend for dinner.  It was a magical day, taking those less traveled roads did make all the difference.

My Wife on the Flower Bridge