The Road Still Being Travelled

For some years, now, a swinging gate -- one that I had built and hung in 1982 -- has been doing more scraping on a wooden deck than swinging shut. I had the impulse to rehang it, yesterday. I did just that, in spite of the Mosquitoes, and M's quiet warning that my heart had been erratic for several hours. I had the impulse right after my youngest grand-spawn's Sixth Birthday. It is now well hung and exquisitely tensioned for just-so shutting ... and does. Just before I played at being a carpenter, M and I had come home from "the kid and the cake." Two other Grands were there and four of my "nexts." Three Grands were missing ... ... one at school and two at home somewhat far away. Tomorrow which has become today is a holiday in the States.

The kid and I had had a water fight just the day before. She shot me with a garden hose. I shot her back. I think water fights and the game of catch are the two best things in the World. I wish all the World's refugees the opportunity to play these games without having to be concerned about their kids being shot ... or manhandled. But that's another story.

Another Grandma -- not M but one the other two noted Grands share with M and I -- reported an urge to -- with her foot that had migrated (with her) from So. Africa to Texas -- kick me into the pool. She and I have been in-laws for some 20 years ... not quite as long as the Not-Quite-Swinging Gate has been scraping on the wooden deck. I remembered as she threatened me when our kids were planning to marry and we sat about a restaurant table talking things over. She had noted, thinking about them moving in together:

J: Someone could get hurt.

I thought for just a moment and noted to J:

H: I'd like to make it clear that if someone gets hurt, 

my preference would be that it be your Son and not my Daughter.

In those days, poor J and her Husband's mouths would following such quips  drop open ... So. African propriety coming up against Brooklyn pragmatics. Nowadays J and her Hubbie have grown accustomed to my witticisms. Proof? ... this proper Capetown transplant is now imagining throwing me into a pool! Good for you, J!

But that's it, Howard. Blame it all on growing up in Brooklyn. 

Yesterday was a strange and wonderful day, in general. I had taken a new Yoga class in the morning. The instructor had asked if I recognized her. I didn't. She explained that many years ago she had come to my office for consultation -- once or twice, I suppose. My office has seen many come for brief stints ... and then leave. I no longer remember each person. In the years that my gate has been scraping along ... in the years since the Yoga Instructor had visited me ... in the years since J's Son and M and my Daughter began raising their own ... and, certainly, in the 50 years since M and I began raising our brood and swinging open and closed our own gates ... a whole lot has occurred. 

The First Three Quarters were quite full. The Fourth Quarter continues on its own yet to be determined path.

Today is a holiday in the States ... Labor Day. Maybe, I'll get to shoot the Littlest One once more with a hose. 

Cheers!