Hallo,
Hope all is well. My kids are giving me a great present today for Father’s Day. Peace and Quiet! I strongly urge all those Pere’s out there to request the same. Sit back, drink in hand, watch the records being set and broken and re-set at the U.S. Open on TV or sit by the pool or garden and relax and think about all the monotonous chores you can avoid (or hopefully, put off on some child) for at least one blessed day. I’m trying to convince my 11 year old to rotate the tires, change the oil and clean the gutters, but thus far no go. Black Ops and Madden 2k10 are apparently far more important than such trivial maintenance in reverence of dear old Dad.
Meh.
It’s probably not a good idea anyway. He wouldn’t know a screwdriver if he tripped over it. I wonder how he’s going to take care of things when he gets older. You can’t fix the car with a video game controller. He can’t seem to brush his teeth without one. Me, I’m going to sit by the garden a bit I think. I wasn’t into this whole garden thing when Star asked/proposed/forced/blackmailed me into it. Aside from the heavy digging, the doctor bills (from hitting myself in the head with my shovel), and the nausea and vomiting from intense physical labor that didn’t HAVE to be undertaken, I must say, now that stuff is growing, gardening is kind of oddly annoying… oops, Freudian slip. I mean rewarding.
Watching the herbs rise and the tomatoes pop out and the veggies grow, chasing off birds and varmints flinging four letter words at them like they’re cluster bombs, it’s oddly kind of relaxing. Frustrating and enjoyable at the same time, like bowling with the family, fun for a minute, then your thumb stings and you realize you’re wearing clown shoes in public and you’re losing badly to your children, but those 3 strikes at the end of the game that allows you to win by 1 point and trash talk your 6 year old for a decade makes it all worth while!
Ahh, memories. Anywho, I have come to appreciate gardening, and the food tastes sooooo much better than store bought. Is funny. Always been the Hemingway, Buk, Kerouac type. Go, do, rough it, hard core, push things to the limit. Wring life like it’s a ratty wet beach towel and enjoy the few drops of sweat that drop from it. Now I could see myself living on a little farm, working the land by the day, writing and trying to help fix the world by night. Sounds, oddly for me, cooler than traveling the land in a band or trying to back door my way into red carpet parties to spoil them.
Maybe I’m just getting old. That’s the problem with Father’s Days and birthdays, it all comes around to you getting older. Perhaps I’m nearly ripe like a big golden cantaloupe, ready to be plucked and stored for the winter. Nah, I’d be more like a red jalapeno I suppose. Anyway, Happy Father’s Day to all, and I still have a few issues of Literal Translations to give out, just email me with an address and enjoy some fine writing for free. Speaking of which, the next issue will soon be upon us. Write, vote, see if you can’t get a piece or a favorite piece voted in there. Get a writer paid for their hard work. Like gardening, it’s oddly rewarding!
Until next time,
Sayonara!
Don
