A Change In The Weather
And hope for the future
I woke up early this morning and made a pot of coffee. My wife is still asleep, so I have only my dog for company. Turning on the TV, I watch the news.
It looks like New Orleans survived another hurricane. There is a lot of damage, but fortunately, not too many lives were lost.
Peace may have finally broken out in the Afghan, at least for the moment. The state GOP is pushing for stricter voting laws to combat voter fraud, a situation that everyone but they know does not exist.
Same old same old, as they say. The weatherman drones that the current temperature is ten degrees cooler than it was yesterday.
Wait, What?
Stepping outside, I feel a cool breeze on my face. It is a welcome change from the heat that we have had lately. I look up and see that the sky is clearing.
I see the constellation Orion shining above. You know him, the guy with the belt. He holds his sword over his head as if to strike. The ancient Greeks thought Orion to be locked in an eternal battle with Taurus, the bull, the constellation in front of him. You would think that after fighting all this time, Orion would have realized that you can not win them all.
Orion is trying to rescue the Pleiades, AKA The Seven Sisters. They huddle in cosmic fear just behind the bull’s shoulder. I can count only five of them due to the light pollution and my poor eyesight. The star Aldebaran, the eye of the bull, glares down at me, an angry red. I try to explain the constellations and their mythological significance to my dog, but she is not listening.
She is enjoying the morning too. Her nose works overtime as it takes in all the fascinating odors drifting in the cool, dry air. I am sure that she would love to explain the cacophony of smells to me if she could. I am not senseless in that department. I take a deep breath and smell the lake at the end of the street, along with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee emanating from the cup in my hand. There is a faint whiff of ganja in the air too. No doubt one of the neighbors is doing a wake-and-bake.
Cannabis is legal here, and I have no problem with it. People who use pot for pain relief or as a treatment for PTSD are much less likely to use and become addicted to opioids. Statistically speaking, no one ever died from overdosing on weed. You cannot say that about heroin or fentanyl. I set my coffee down on the table and put on my shoes and socks.
Today I am going to run 3 miles, the longest that I have done in years. It should not be much of a problem, as I have been running 2.7 miles a day for the last month or so. I am getting tired of running that same route.
It is time to broaden my horizon. I will start with my favorite part, the now-familiar run by the lake but drop down into a new neighborhood on my return path. There are some added twists and turns on the new route. I believe that it will add nearly half a mile to the course and total out somewhere around 3.2 miles, or 5K. I need to do it. I need to increase my endurance. I need a change of scenery.
Walking out to the street, I activate the GPS on the phone and head east. After about twenty yards, my legs have warmed up, and I start to jog. There is a refreshing breeze coming in from off the lake, and I make good time getting to the corner. Upon reaching the corner, I turn north and head towards the pier.
Running is a good meditation for me. It gives me a place to think about things. The metronomic tap of my feet on the concrete is as good a koan as any.
Today I am thinking about the war. I think about the lives that we have lost, the money spent and wonder if any of it was worth it. We did get Bin Laden, and we prevented Afghanistan from remaining a haven for international terrorists, but we completed that ten years ago.
How do we justify the last decade?
I reach the park and turn out towards the pier. There are only a few fishermen out this morning. The east wind is not that great for fishing.
Wind from the east, fish bite the least.
Approaching the end of the pier, I see a familiar face. An old black man with a Shakespeare spinning combo is sitting on the bench.
The rod leans against the railing as he watches the horizon. He has no other tackle, and I have never seen him catch a fish. Today I stop to catch my breath and ask him if he has had any luck. He turns to me and smiles, saying,
I consider myself lucky just being here!
Maybe that is the secret. Perhaps I should look for the upside.
If there is an upside, I think that it lies in the quality of our young veterans. They are a generation that understands the importance of service to the community. Unlike my tribe, the money-grubbing, screw you, Jack, I got mine, Me generation, they may have the skills needed to get us out of this mess.
They may be the new Greatest Generation.
Turning east, I think about these things as I watch my shadow running on the pavement in front of me. My form is not that bad, I guess. Maybe there is still hope for the old guy.
Upon arriving home, I check my GPS and discover that the new twisty route is only 2.66 miles. Five one-hundredths of a mile short of my old run.
Things change, centuries turn, empires rise and fall. The trick, I think, is not to dwell on the past. Remember it, and learn from your mistakes, but keep your focus on the future and the problems at hand. Focus on making things better for you and your neighbors.
That is it for today. I am tired and in need of another cup of coffee.
I will go back to the computer later and chart a new course for tomorrow.