Simple Pleasures

Today I read the obituary of a man who died young, at age 44.  His name was Johnny. I was struck by the simplicity of how Johnny apparently lived his life.
The write-up said he was employed by a baking company for many years. It went on to say he enjoyed going to the creek in the summer, spending time with his family, and watching "Storage Wars" on TV.
Now I don't mean to imply there's anything wrong with a person who spends their life trying to change the world, but personally, I seem to be more impressed on average with people like Johnny. Of all the potential things his family might have mentioned in the brief summation of their departed loved one's life, they chose to honor him by mentioning that among all the things Johnny enjoyed, he just liked going down to the creek in the summer.
I don't know how you can not have an appreciation for a guy like that.
Thank goodness for people like Colin Powell, Mother Theresa, and Donald Trump, but if push comes to shove, I think I would just like to be more like Johnny.

The Riley Brothers

When I started the 1st grade, we lived in California, Missouri and I attended the only elementary school in town. We moved back to my home town of Rolla over the Thanksgiving break, so I actually only attended school there about 3 months. Although I was a very short term member of what would eventually become the CHS graduating class of 1977, I'll never forget those kids, especially a kid named Kent Riley.

Kent had a twin brother named Keith. Keith was bigger than Kent but they both had a flat top and dressed alike, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt they were indeed twins.
I had a flat top too, in fact, I think most of the boys in our school had a flat top. It was 1965 and flat tops were apparently in. That, or they were out and we were just not up with the times. That's a possibility considering California then had a population of less than 3000 people. In or out, it was a nice place to live for a kid growing up in the 60's.

On my last day of school there (which would be the last day I ever attended a class in the California, Missouri R1 school system), I vividly remember playing in the foyer with Kent, Keith, and our mutual friend Brad, while waiting for my parents to pick me up from school. I don't recall what we were playing, but I do remember laughing and carrying on like 6 year old boys are prone to do.
I looked up from whatever we were doing and saw my parents pull up to the sidewalk immediately in front of the side entrance to the school. We all stopped playing and just stood there silently for what seemed like several seconds. I remember the feeling of "this is it"--I was walking out the door and moving to a town that, although only 80 miles away, might as well have been 800 miles away from the perspective of a 6 year old kid.

I recall the distinct feeling of not knowing what I was supposed to say in a situation like this, but ended up saying something to the affect of "See you later guys", as I pushed open the door and started walking down the sidewalk toward our 1959 Chevy Bel Air. As I opened the car door, I turned around and looked back at the school. Standing inside the foyer with his face and hands pressed up against the side glass, was my good friend Kent. He was crying profusely-just like a 6 year old small town school boy. I remember I started crying too and after all these years, I can still see that image of Kent as clearly as if it were yesterday.
That was the latter part of November, 1965 and probably on a Wednesday afternoon, considering we moved away over Thanksgiving. It was the last time I ever saw my buddy Kent.

Kids are resilient and I bounced back, going on to finish out my grammar, Jr. High, and High School career in Rolla, Missouri. Kent and Keith went on to finish their prep school careers in California, according to my Aunt Dee, and Kent has since been a life long resident of Central Missouri.
Over the years, I've wondered from time to time whether or not Kent, his brother Keith, and any of our other mutual friends from Miss Cooks 1965 1st grade class remember me. It's highly possible none of them do, considering my short time there as their class mate, exactly 47 years ago.

Whether or not my old buddy Kent recalls the skinny flat topped kid who moved away less than half way through the first grade, doesn't matter all that much now is suppose, but one things for sure; I still remember him.

Life Goes On

As mentioned previously, my adoring wife (she adores me more with each passing day) allowed me to build a little log cabin a few years ago on our Barry County property in Southwest, Missouri. We only have 87 acres but we're on the back side of it and bordered on 2 sides by the Mark Twain National forest. In this picture the foreground is ours and the hills in the background belong to you, the tax payer.   While I'm thinking about it, I'd like to thank you for your contribution. Your annual involuntary donation makes it possible for us to feel like we have 10,087 acres, instead of just 87. For those who aren't good with math or don't know what an acre feels like, suffice to say your ongoing support makes a substantial difference.

We just completed our 10th annual "Rolla Boy Reunion" at the cabin this past weekend and had a wonderful time as always. The above picture was taken behind our cabin Saturday morning, the 20th of October. It was an absolutely beautiful Fall morning.
Note: While I'm thinking about it, I'd like to give a shout out to God for His handy work in creating the awesome colors each Fall in these rocky old Missouri hills--excellent effort to say the least!

Due to a number of issues, several of our collective old friends and former attendees weren't able to make it this year. One of our guys lost his mother a few weeks ago at age 84 and another old friend lost his dad the first part of September at age 80. Another's wife is very seriously ill. A tough time for many of our old gang and their families. We're all thinking about you guys. Somehow life goes on.

Smell October

What a wonderful time to be outside! The metaphor "Stop and smell the roses", may apply to Fall more than any other time of year. Most people, however, will watch it come and go without really getting anything out of it. As it relates to taking advantage of it, however, you may have to be intentional. Beauty is all around us if we'll take time to notice as we go through our hurried daily routines.

To enjoy the best of what nature has to offer, you might consider going outside in the early morning or early evening. My personal favorite time to be outside is the last hour of the day, as the sun is going down and nature executes it's nightly changing of the guard. Not only does the setting sun often times provide a colorful sky, but if you'll be still and listen, you'll hear the night time critters wind up while the day time critters wind down--good medicine for urban ears.
And if you're lucky enough to be away from the constant distraction of urban lights and sounds late in the day, you might even hear the local coyotes calling their friends together for a hopeful evening buffet, or possibly the hoot of the stealthy Barred Owl, should you happen to be located within the broad boundaries of it's trade territory.

Although the colors may have peaked here in the lower Midwest, there is still a lot outside to enjoy for those who'll take the time. And what a wonderful time it is to be outside!

Thought for the day: Stop and smell October (currently there's no charge and no laws against it as far as I'm aware).

Maxie Pad

Like a lot of other folks, we have a dog. His name is Max and he's a big Ol' happy Yellow Lab. Maxie Pad (his nick name) weighs in at a cool 100 pounds and doesn't have an ounce of fat on him  (like Arnold Schwarzenegger, only Max doesn't have any money to speak of, has never starred in a movie, and as far as I know has never fathered a pup with one gal while he was committed to another...not that I know for sure he wouldn't give it a shot were he still fully equipped).
Our friend Max is content to hang around, sleep, chase squirrels, and ride around in the Tahoe (I'm pretty sure he thinks it's his Tahoe, even though technically my name's on the title). It's also evident he thinks he's a seeing eye dog and I'm blind because he will not leave my side most of the time, unless he's out in the front yard looking for squirrels or we're somewhere walking around in the woods; even then he won't wonder very far from me.
He apparently thinks sit and stay mean the same thing. When I tell him to sit, he sits and stays and when I tell him to stay, he also sits and stays (my fault for not giving clear direction when he was still in the learning phase). Heal apparently means, "Run over to him, act like I'm going to heal and then go back to sniffing and rooting around".
When he hears the Tahoe keys jingle (probably any keys-I don't think he can distinguish between various sets of keys), he starts jumping and spinning and gets nearly as excited as I do when my wife says, "Do you want to go upstairs?" (I put that in here to find out if my wife is reading this stuff-if I don't hear about it in a few days, I'll know she's not). When he thinks we're going somewhere in his Tahoe you couldn't get him away from the back bumper with a t-bone steak smothered in Squirrel gravy...which reminds me; it's Squirrel season and I haven't been Squirrel hunting in several years (this is an example of what happens when adult ADD kicks in).

The Barn Depot

The temperature sat very comfortably around 72 degrees as the sun made it's way through the trees and just inside the doorway to the barn (I know the above picture doesn't quite fit that description, but I'm working with what I have available). I had finally gotten around to once and for all organizing it's contents, which included things like hand tools, power tools and long handled tools; screws, bolts, nuts and fasteners; rope, string and twine; boards of all shapes and sizes; stain, paint and related supplies; ladders; chainsaws; camping equipment, and assorted other paraphernalia related to the aforementioned categories. It's amazing what a person can accumulate when they put a few walls around what had previously been a wide open space.

A barn is basically an oversized closet for men; if there's available space in a barn or garage, a man will find something to put there-much like a woman with an empty dresser drawer or shelf in a closet. If you don't have something to put there when the space becomes available, it's just a matter of time before you'll go buy something to put there. Space, by it's very nature, requires filling whether it's in a barn, a closet, or a drawer.

Although my initial intention was to build a barn to hold stuff I already had, I inadvertently wound up filling it up with stuff I had to buy. I bought a lot of the stuff at places like Lowe's and Home Depot. Building supply companies must love guys who build barns. Not only do barn builders buy tons of stuff to put in the barn once it's built, they first have to buy all the stuff it takes to build the barn, and most of that stuff comes from places like Home Depot (I know technically it's "The Home Depot", but it sounds stupid when you say it that way e.g.: I'll be back after while-I'm going down to "The Home Depot"...no one says that). When the barn's finally built, the owner spends the rest of their life acquiring stuff to put in it. It's like building a swimming pool, only it cost more and you can't swim in it.

Now that I think about it, I bet when a guy walks into a Home Depot and announces, "I've decided to build a barn", you instantly become their new favorite customer. After you leave, the manager probably breaks out several bottles of champaign, calls all the employees together, and does a rousing rendition of the company cheer--"GIMME AN H...H, GIMME AN O...O" etc.. The celebration is probably much the same as it would be if all the store employees had pooled their money and bought the winning mega-millions lottery ticket. And if the manager isn't through having or producing babies, they may even decide to name their next born child after you. If they don't, they should. After all, someone building a barn must be to a Home Depot store manager, what a hundred new Walmart Super Centers are to the owner of a Chinese spatula and toilet bowel brush factory!
I must apologize; I started out to write about the nice time I had yesterday working in my barn. It really was a nice day, about 72 degrees and the sun was shining.