I hope that this finds you doing well. I am fine. Vacation is over and I am back in the saddle. Although the saddle is a bit different for a few days. The great city of Pittsburgh has opened its doors to the people of my chosen career. I make it a firm policy to not write about the job. I continue that policy here. I only share that I am away and with vacation, I will have been gone from home for a week and a half. More importantly, I am away from the lovely Miss Beverly for three days. I know you road warriors are sarcastically crying boo hoo . . . "break out the violin section. You poor baby."
You are right. I am blessed. Your lives are affected by those long absences. I know because my life is affected by this short term absence. So I take my hat off to you.
That is an aside. Back to the vacation. I mentioned in last week's blog that Bev and I were on vacation in Beverly Shores on the beautiful banks of Lake Indiana. It has become the "go to" vacation spot for the lovely Miss Beverly and I. It is close enough that we can get there in 3 hours and yet far enough away that we are away from home. We aren't going to run home to take care of the dog or (as hard as it is to say) I can't go home to pick some green beans or cucumbers. The garden is on its own for that week.
The thing about having that "go to" place is over time you start to get the lay of the land. You learn the best places for the farmer's sunrise platter or peaches by the half bushel. More importantly we have found numerous outlets for Sherman's ice cream. It is a wonderous ice cream that we found in South Haven, Michigan 6? years ago.
I love the area. That Michiana land around the lower curve of Lake Indiana. Every time I ride along the south shore past the power plant cooling tower that looks like a nuclear power cooling tower (but it isn't) past the little bars and rail yards at the edge of Michigan City, I am reminded of stories of Jean Sheperd. He is an Indiana author that grew up in the Region. He was a humorist and radio show host. In 1966, he put together a compendium of essays into a book called "In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash." I found the book 20 years ago and it has become one of the books that has made the transition with me through two media. I had it as a paper back. It was lost in one of the many book purges that the Sharritts have suffered during the years. I bought a second copy to store on my IPad. We will see how long it lasts.
It is one of the books that has made a lasting impression on my life. Some people look to the Self Help genre to find hints and helps to make their lives better. That route never works for me. I have started numerous self help books never finishing the third chapter. However, I may pick up a book about canning and find a pertinent pointer for my life. Six months ago I was reading one of the many murder mysteries in which I indulge and I found what it looks like to have a bunch of guys in your crew who watch your back. I was sharing another insight with my counselor and he was excited to write down the name of the book so he could share it with other clients. The advise was that good. Alas, it was one line in another mystery.
So I pick up these tips to live by in obscure places. In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash was one such gold mine. Sheperd has an essay that describes the difference between the famous and the great unwashed. His premise is that every person faces three or four turning points in their life. How they react in that moment of blinding self awareness, determines if they are one of the famous people or the throng. When faced with the blinding truth of our existence most of us slink off to the weeds where we hide what we see from those around us. The famous? The famous when faced with their inadequacy put on a pair of sunglasses walk down to the nearest coffee shop and order a latte to drink out on the sidewalk under an umbrella.
So I carry the brilliance of Jean Shepard around with me in Northern Indiana as I do my favorite thing on a vacation. Because of advanced technology, I can take a box full of electrons smaller than a pack of cigarettes, tell it that I want to ride 50 miles and the GPS pixies will discover a route on rarely traveled roads that are in pretty good shape. I attach my Garmin to my handlebars, ride in the direction it tells me to ride. 500 feet before a turn it will tell me to go left or right and count down the feet until I have reached that intersection.
So I leave the directions to the pixie and just ride. I ride wherever it tells me to ride. I turn right. I turn left, I have no idea of where I am at. I have not paid close enough attention to get back home if the technology fails me. I just ride. I ride and look at the world through someone else's eyes. For a ride in the Region, it is Jean Shepard's eyes. I see the ridiculous, the sacred, the harmonious and the tone deaf.
Last week, I saw an old time dairy farm. The farmer was cutting hay in anticipation of a few dry days. I say old time and I mean the kind of farm that was prevalent 30 years ago but has disappeared to be replaced by the Fair Oaks of the world. Fair Oaks milks 30,000 cows just south of Chicago; 30,000 cows. For perspective, it would replace 300 dairies similar to the one that I grew up on. As I watched the mower make I couple of laps, I was transported to our farm and the hours and hours that I had done the same thing. In comparison, when I drive by Fair Oaks, I think what are they going to do with all of that poo. It turns out that they turn it into natural gas to run their fleet of trucks and buses.
A ten acre field of cucumbers was three miles down the road. I was flabbergasted; ten acres of cucumbers. And to think that I am limited to one plant at a time. Although I have found that you can cheat a little bit if you plant 3 seeds in a hill and be covered up with cukes, but still ten acres. You get some really big garden tools for 10 acres. You would have a lot of pickles to eat.
My travels took me past several "Stop the Freight Trains" signs. Really? Stop freight trains. I thought that we had fought that fight back in the 1800's. In fact, freight trains probably was one of the factors that tipped the balance to the North in the Civil War. But for people along that transportation choke point around Chicago and Northern Indiana the war is just heating up. I found other interesting signs: the Independent Cat Society. What? Can you get independent cat's to band together in a society? It also appears that the Region has lost its leprechaun. The rest of the world goes hunting in March, but not Northern Indiana. They have a hunt on August 20th at McHenry park. It makes some sense when you think about it. In March, their leprechauns are probably hidden under five feet of lake effect snow. No, it is best to wait until things thaw out a little bit in August and then go hunting in a wife beater, shorts and flip flops.
Finally there was the prediction of the apocalypse at Frank's pretty good flower shop. "Book your wedding flowers soon," Frank encouraged because "open dates are running out." Who knew? It appears that only a few weekends are left before the end of the world. Or maybe Frank has all of the business in Michigan City, Indiana for the next three millennia or however long we get to see interesting things off the beaten path.
Take care,
Roger.
No comments:
Post a Comment