Keeping it calm

Summer is here and the excitement of the spring is over. All time has slowed its pace. Three square meals a day including the critter crewe. Afternoons awaiting the mail to be inspected and declared fit to read. Little projects fill the void that was the office. Swat at the mosquitoes and read in the dark.

But it is calm

Inside the DVDs flow from one season to another. Wonderment of a new chapter at a push of the button satisfies immediate satisfaction. Stores of colas, chips and paper towels maintain a balance.

But it is calm

The dog days of summer are supposed to be quiet slow hours of heat and sun. The big projects, painting, organizing, cleaning, building are on hold. The critters are caged or under covers. Cold drinks and fire food supplemented with light shows of sports fill the daze.

But it is calm.

Abnormal Friday

Begins with the usual wake up call to breakfast at seven for oatmeal, soy bacon, water, sliced orange, and instant coffee. Channel 12 is holding on the television so the most professional broadcast is now available. Traffic reports of wrecks on a background of computer generated streets, weather forecasting the incoming heat, sports touting the upcoming metal monster drive fast and turn left and the first round pick of the VCU b-ball play (Yeah us!), and the constant chatter of Farah and Mikey.

Enough of that stuff, out for the morning ride before it gets too hot.

Start at Broad today and work backwards. The quiet-time. Weaving back and forth on familiar roads, passing the removal of the Thomas Jefferson tennis courts that I don’t remember being there when I went to school so many years ago, but we had a tennis team so? Passing by lawn care trailers and the smell of freshly cut yards, waving to the Puritan delivery driver, checking out the young smiling going to work driver, pressing up hills that leave no quarter, checking the glass from an vehicle light that met a bad faith in my path and hoped for the air to stay firm (more to come…), forgetting to number the fewer houses for sale on my journey and many have “pending” or “contract” on the signs giving a feeling that the recession may be changing (at least in this neighborhood), seeing the packing of towels and lawn chairs into the back of black hatch tops, passing a women running with a twin carriage full of babies and a pink plastic helmet riding behind her as a mobile monster approached, the parked earth digger which had closed the street the day before with a crew trying to patch another hole gone wrong, pass Mr. Curley’s car with “I Love Trains” on it, up the final hill and back around to listen to the dirty stories being passed back and forth from ladder climbers.

Two bottles of water and a wet red shirt were consumed.

Decided to do the daily adventures early so a quick wash and change, back on another bike and out the fence, but this would be an ardent adventure.

What’s on the list to do? Cup hooks, check; grocery list, check; and checking on the next series of DVDs.

I decided to go to Barnes and Noble first, since I did not bring the C.A.R.E. packages and had already written the bills, so I skipped the new Pleasants hardware store on Patterson and turned right pass the incomplete real estate snafu Monument Square. Someone is losing his or her shirt on this project.

Going down new street things felt right with broad paved road and bunnies hopping. Then the even pavement changed to grey gravel! (Gravel -The worst fear of a two wheel traveling devise).

Turn on the busy Libbie and ride the block of health care buildings to the entrance. A sharp turn to the right through the smooth even ramp, but something didn’t feel right.

Gliding down the Limit 25MPH smoothness, the ride felt wrong. Pass Pet Smart I could feel the hub of the wheel. “Another flat!”

Climbing off and walking to the lockup spot, I was on a mission and could not be denied.

Once inside the pleasant un-crowded bookstore with Michael Jackson songs wafting though the ceiling speakers, I walked back to the DVD area.

Forgetting to put on my reading glasses, I glared at the rack of television series through the darkness. My quest was to find the complete series of “Dark Shadows”, the original vampire story from the mid-60’s that held every imagination. I had grown up on Frankenstein and Dracula, but never was interested in the TV version, on late night replays of the old classics with Lon Chaney and Bela Lugosi.

After several searches and assistance, there was nothing I could find to satisfied my needs.

Press up the hot pavement to lock around a post and venture into Target in search of cup hooks. I’d already struck out once, so I was wary of the find. Forgetting where the “hardware” section had moved, I wandered through the store; pass people with screaming kids, big boxes, and lost expressions. Aw! “Home Improvement”, that’s what I’m looking for. There was one pre-wrapped package with one hook, and then there was one with two. I was amazed. Maybe I should have gone to Pleasants hardware after all. I thought these things were easy to find, but the grocery store didn’t have them, so I continued my search. Aw!! Gold hooks, copper hooks, and silver hooks in two sizes were found. Oh no, too many choices. Grab the small size and the large size and get to the check out before my luck changes.

The Express Line was empty, including the woman who stared off into the distance not acknowledging my existence or the sound of the hooks on the conveyer belt.

“Oh” she finally turned to her task and slowly rang up the $6.00 purchase.

Next was the walk up Broad Street to cross in lunch hour traffic to the bicycle shop.

Dragging “Big Blue” into the swinging doors and over to the repair area, the young tattooed lads in cargo shorts and dark t-shirts viewed the familiar friend. “Back tire” I pointed and they smiled. We’ve done this dance before.

“Would you like us to put the Teflon tire protection in this time? $7.00 for each tire?”

“Sure, let’s try it again.”

I wondered around the store sweating a sad I could not find “Dark Shadows”. Checking out gloves, bright day-glo yellow jackets like the t-shirt I was wearing, and bags until the repair was complete.

“Throw in a couple of bottles and racks, it’s getting hot out there. And I don’t mind advertising you guys.”

“And we thank you.”

Back on my wheels, the next venture was the Kroger experience. The daily request was for bread, milk, eggs, and beer. The usual request.

Then up the hill, mail the bills, around the video truck looking into the pipes underground, and home.

Phew! This was enough of a day, so it is time to rest and listen to some tunes, but please not the Jacksons.

Where are you now?

The trashcan is full of cans of beer piss and newspapers soaking up the constant call.

Spider webs rake the ceiling while smaller bugs swing back and forth.

The fan continues to blow from the left, the evening breeze.

The bulletin board is full of “to-do” list. A calendar, bills to be paid on Friday, 3-d glasses, magnifying glasses and single bicycle gloves to be investigated and maybe order online.

The moth continues to fly about the light. The television has been turned off after “This Old House” relieving the viewer of the icons death toil. There will be more tomorrow.

Today’s accomplishments were to go to the grocery store twice, take an extended ride, read the newspaper, drink beer, eat crappy fried chicken, listen to some self-made music, pound but miss the dreaded moth flying about, stuff some envelopes with gifts for others, contact the unemployment office finally with the required form to get another boost to my checkbook, clean my fingernails, discuss the tax letter saying I’ve paid the taxes, but they were late, but I do not owe any money, even have a .74¢ credit, loved the internet working fine for the first time this week, listening to the nasty conversation of the roof builders on the corner, watching the young girl walking this morning without a smile , listening to the banter of the witches talking about breast feeding and Lady Guinevere riding naked, swatting little bloodsuckers and looking out for grey runners, the night ends with silver bullets, heat, music and insects.

The extra hour rest this morning did not bring relief for this and tomorrow will be hotter.

Is this what life will bring?

Yard Sales, Runners and Heat

The morning ride, which started at 7:30 a.m. and 75 degrees took the usual route from south to north.

The neighborhood was as normally quiet with little traffic and noise. Even the lawnmowers were silent.

Daze from the night before filtered the normal path. The breezes and the shade kept the heat in control.

My path was cluttered with early morning runners. This quiet neighborhood is a haven for running groups preparing for tournaments so I am used to the line of out of shape panting folks crossing my way. Sometimes there is eye candy, so it makes the ride more interesting.

Crossing Patterson a new phenomenon. A yard sale extravaganza was taking place. The posters said “Malvern Garden’s Community Yard Sale” and that is what is. Every block had one or two or three or several together houses displaying their “stuff” on the front lawn for the community to peruse. Metal mobile machines maneuvered in position to get a look at personal belongings laid out on the lawns.

As I waited for the mobile machines to come to rest, a man walking his dog came up to me and said, “ With everyone going broke, the good stuff is coming out. There is a golf bag over there. Titlelist for $40. Even bring out Aunt Sally’s china. What about that side board left to you by your grandfather?”

I agreed and moved on. Every block was more of the same. Plaid pants, dishes, lamps, pictures frames, and blankets. There were closet cleaning items that no one wanted, but I wondered why they did not give them to the Red Cross or Salvation Army and take the self imposed value off taxes.

It was interesting to see an entire community involved in a giant yard sale.

Finishing my morning journey I returned home to the critters enjoying their peanut butter, sunflower seed, and apples as my shirt dripped from the heat and it is only 10 a.m.

It is time for a silver bullet. It is 5 o’clock somewhere.

Random Notes

The usual morning ride with a few observations during the meditation period. Shift one gear up and make the adventure a little stronger.

Lawn Jockeys

I came across an iron horse holding a ring in its mouth. A lawn jockey used to be a sign of prestige. Only the finest of homes had a iron lawn jockey, usually shaped as a small black man dressed in a jockey outfit with a stretched out hand holding a ring. This was item of opulence was made to hold a horses reigns keeping the carriage or saddled steed in place until ready for another journey.

The neighborhood used to be punctuated with these gentlemen waiting to hold your horse. Through the years I observed they were vandalized or moved by the householder. These symbols of wealth were being removed for the common curb to rest the monster metal mobile machines.

I thought back to time when in a previous life they were used at the foxhunts.

So why are they still there? What symbol do they still hold?

The song for today is “Baby Please Don’t Go” by Van Morrison and then changes to “When the Mode of the Music Changes” by the Fugs. It’s all about pattern. 1-2-3-4 and repeat to the rhythm of the song.

Clubs

What clubs are you a member of? The lawn jockey reminded me of the status symbols used by people to impress other people.

Clubs were another source of prestige. Who knows who in a group is what a club is all about? It was called a click in high school, but it remained a circle of people who decided who would or could join their circle.

Sometimes it was money, or name, or stature in the community, or just a bunch of kids who decided among themselves they would form a club and only let certain people in.

My dad knew how to work this system and could smooze his way to associate with the top names in state government and business leaders, but he was hired help. He could keep them happy and satisfied, but was not asked for his opinion.

Soft leather chairs, painting of horses on the wall, black men in starched tux serving brandy, and cigar smoke filling the air around the tall wooden bookshelf’s holding volumes of classics.

So what club do you belong to? What does it fulfill for you?

Just Suppose

What would you love to be? You know, the thoughts you had as a little kid. When your dreams were of cowboys or astronauts or super heroes. Remember when you could do anything without thought of money or family or environment.

It’s a hideous thought but when you had not worries due to the impendence of the youth, what did you dream to be?

I had no dreams so they never came true.

Falling Branches

I’ve noted the tall old trees in my neighborhood that loom over me as I ride back and forth every day. Trees as old as the streets or even before. Trees that conquer the concrete and swallow up the sidewalks in their massive trucks line my path.

I think of them as air roots. They reach to the sun and spread to the warmth as below ground they suck the earth moisture.

But with age and weather these fingers will break off from the main frame and drop to the ground.

So I wander through this canopy of possible destruction and beauty.

Are there riots in the streets?

The digital TV has come to pass and over two million are not ready, but what of the ones who have cable and dish TV? They are READY.

But what of us with the old analog boxes with wire antennas?

Sure we took the government offer to have discount cards for the mandatory purchase of digital boxes, but I was only allowed two cards and I have four television sets.

So plug them in and test them and rescan the channels and watch the commercials reminding us without cable and dish TV to adjust the antennas.

The day came Friday, June 12, 2009. The old rusty tower rising over the Broad Street station was now silent.

And for us, so was WWBT-12. They have been our source for news for the past decade or more and had passed the entire trial test.

But now it was gone.

So now we have digital. Digital for me is the weak signal that breaks up in storms and heavy winds.

And two remotes, one to turn on the set and the other to turn on the digital box in order to receive a signal from somewhere will not solve the new wave of entertainment.

But there is an OFF button and it works well.

As long as I can receive PBS and “Sunday Morning”, I’ll be fine.

Let the riots in the streets continue and the government will realize that the Iranian elections, North Korean missile firings, and the automotive disaster will not solve the basic need for American’s to sit and eat and stare at a box presenting pictures of comedy, information, sports, and unless messages before the Internet took the attention of the young.

Beware of what you miss and what you have desired.

Colonial Place

Hope you enjoy my ride




















and every now and then you find a secret elephant hiding behind the shrubs

Riding Sideways

My usual morning route has been East and West, but today to shake things up, I rode North and South. These are the roads that connect Broad Street and Grove Avenue. They are the other links to the grid.

The biggest difference I noticed is the paths are shorter and I have to stop more. I crossed Monument and Patterson Avenues more often.

I start at the far West end of my usual route with Wisteria Avenue. Not the “Desperate Housewife” street but a narrow lumpy street with no curbs. It does not cross Patterson, so I turn and travel down Bunting, then turn to Hanover to the long block to Westmoreland.

Westmoreland is a main thoroughfare between North and South and is heavily trafficked even at the early morning hour. With competition for space, the route is slower.

And after crossing Patterson and Monument, I loop back to Commonwealth and enjoy the shade of the overlapping trees. Pass the little Quaker church in a new direction.

Turning to Woodlawn, there is another detour due to the limited 3-block length.

Up one block on Kensington pass young women walking their dogs or carriages. I do not make eye contact as I turn north on Sauer. The street named after the spice manufacturer I stop at Patterson and notice the traffic has picked up for the morning commute. The same is true on Monument.

The morning sun is beating down on this journey of unknown bumps and bruises. I have not memorized this route so it is a new adventure.

Routing back to Antrim pass the ole high school and stopping again at the Monument commute. This is taking longer than the normal ride.

Up a long hill I turn to the 4-land Malvern Avenue. Another traveled corridor from the Cary Street and Winsor Farms high-end crowd, pass the Greek Church and the apartments making the transition to increased financed condos with a pool. Stopping for parked cars while zooming white trucks whiz past, I take a breath and view the oncoming traffic from both sides.

Turn right at the Boy Scouts office that used to be near Maymont when I was a scout. Pass McCleans and notice all the traffic going up this Augusta Avenue to a cheap gas station, then I turn right onto Lafayette Street. The zoning during the construction of this grid must have been fascination because here and there are small shops for interior designs or gardening and a small strip mall of a single block which was a pharmacy with a soda counter, a laundry mat, a grocery store, a 5 and dime, and small hair dresser. These were stuck in the middle of a conservative neighborhood. And this business zone only happens on this street in this neighborhood.

Then to Revelle, but it too is only a 3-block street, so I cross over Patterson to Kent. I’ve traveled this street for years and never knew what the name was.

Pausing at Monument, I notice the change in the row of WWII apartment housing with no east / west streets and the Hamilton apartments dividing the neighborhood from the bridges going over the railroad tracks and highway in the deep ditch.

I cross over the divided highway and turn west, ready to end my ride. Though it is a mild grade, it is all-uphill from here.

After picking up a newspaper at the 7-11, I turn home. It has been a slow long hot ride today and I even missed many streets like Chantilly, Blacker, and Shenandoah that are short broken streets mixing up the neighborhood grids.

Tomorrow I go back to east / west rides.

Quiet!

It is so quiet out here.

No lawnmowers. No kids screaming. No barking dogs. The infrequent passing car is a dull wisp in the distance.

Just the occasional bird song and the muffled fan creating white noise.

After spending the morning traveling back and forth to the grocery store for litter and avoiding the continuous roaming water system repair crews and their trucks and barricades, I sit with a bottle of water, a book and cool down.

That’s when I notice how quiet it is out here.

On this little plot of land covered in shade of trees grown from sprigs. A little rustle from the dried leaf floor as chipmunks scamper by.

The raining cherry attack has stopped so it is safe to sit next to the pond and watch the reflection of the water on the red maple leafs stretch across the water and watch the shadows move as time moves on.

Shhhhhhh.

Paved roads, Police Cars, and working on weekends

The Sunday morning ride has begun.

First up at 6:00 AM to go to 7-11 over broken glass for a newspaper due to the morning delivery ran out. Coffee, “Sunday Morning”, eggs, soy bacon, and swirly rolls break the dawn.

Then it is off to travel the usual Sunday route, but what will the streets look like?

A couple of weeks ago, the Grove Avenue path was being torn up. Scrapping the surface down 3” deep creating a rough gravel and concrete rocky bumpy road. Not good for a bike or a butt.

So the past two weeks have been new routes detouring around the construction, but today I would take another preview.

Looking west there was a beautiful black path of smooth asphalt and freshly painted white lines.

Checking the traffic behind and becoming much more aware of the new path, I wondered if it completed my travel or would I have to divert to the north through unknown neighborhood where doped up kids stab their “uncles” to death.

Magically due to the sleepy daze and the smooth surface, I arrived at Libbie Avenue with ease.

Drifting down toward my next turn and applying more brakes than normal. The refitting of my ride has made it much more responsive and 25 MPH still worry me on this sunny morning.

Onto Patterson Avenue which has just the year before been resurfaced with the smooth black asphalt and start to drift down to Willow Lawn Drive? Both of these streets were smooth enough already, but I guess the rich BMW, Lexus owners must have persuasive pressure on the city council to get smooth roads redone at taxpayer’s expense.

Last year the roads leading to the grocery store were also resurfaced, but this was not a “main” thoroughfare and a small neighborhood. While I can attests that the potholes were formable, the summer crews and all their machinery, trucks, shovels, water buckets, hard hats… lay a strip of black tar down the center of the street. While I appreciated the minimal effort through the winter making my repeated rides easier and safer, the weather and heat is taking toil on the repair and the patch is coming apart. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.

The new Sunday ride will be smoother and removes the excuse to climb the Malvern hill.

The Boulevard to Libbie path holds funny memories for me, as that was my reason for not driving today, even when it was smooth.

As I travel I see a police car parked. Then I see another one.

On my morning ride there is a Richmond City police cruiser parked on a sleepy side street. I’ve seen it move so I know it is not parked to scare off criminals as a decoy. I wonder the policy to allow officers to drive city vehicles home. And though it makes me feel somewhat safe, it worries me about the expense. Partially when I read that some officers live as far away as Williamsburg or Portsmouth. Am I given them a FREE ride?

And two cruisers parked conjure danger. What are they looking for? Where is the trouble? Adrenaline rush speeds the journey.

Now I respect the men-in-blue (it used to be brown but they looked like big boy scouts or a bad cadet corps ((sorry Ronnie, they usually wear gray)) and they were always out of step in parades or falling over each other during the resistance to African American freedom or getting bit by their attack dogs over long haired kids blocking a block on Grove Avenue).

I will leave a restaurant or office if a uniform police with sidearm sits down. Weapons can be trouble so I try to avoid them. Even if its concealed and I see it, I’m gone.

Don’t misunderstand me. The protection they provide keeps our society on an even keel and when I want protection from trouble I want to see as man blue flashing lights as I can get.

As I finish my meditative journey on this bright morning I ponder the statement from a friend of mine about not working on weekends. I wonder, “Who doesn’t work on weekends now?”

Today’s work demands 24/7 attention to cells, tweets, emails, social networking, presentations, reports, …… the list goes on and on. Technology has given us a global resource to contact each other no matter where we are or what time it is.

This is what employers expect. And expectations are what becomes reality. So don’t miss two days out of the seven. You may miss an idea, which you can attend, or admin or contend or resin.

But my ride is over so I read, drink bottle water (from the faucet) and listen to the birds sing.

Taking Your Time

Imagine this….

6:00 – 9:00 A.M. – Wake suddenly, stumble down the hall to bath, dress, prepare breakfast, check emails, watch the morning weather and traffic reports, gather all the material from the night work, pour a cup of coffee into a travel mug, rush to the awaiting vehicle, pack the business stuff and coats and umbrellas, then warm the engine to comfort levels before heading down the highway, spilling the coffee from the roof or pouring it out so you can go to the nearest coffee merchant to bring a paper cup to the office to show how you are a member of the club.

9:00 – 10:00 A.M. – Get settled in front of the computer screen, log on to the network, sip your now cold coffee, stack papers and files to look busy, check and respond to emails, prepare for meetings.

10:00 – 11:00 A.M. – First preparatory meeting, which is usually a wrap-up from a previous meeting or a discussion of the overnight problems. Make copious notes and add little. Sip a new cup of coffee.

11:00 – 12:00 A.M. – Second meeting usually with most of the people from the first meeting. Make presentations (since you are awake now) and check your cell and blackberry for notes and new emails. Stress.

12:00 – 1:00 P.M. – Grab a snack from the vending machines, check the emails and cell responses. Note the changes from the second meeting and review your notes for the next meeting while you start to sweat.

1:00 – 2:00 P.M. – First afternoon wrap-up of projects and procedures. This meeting usually has a top-level executive or an assistant taking notes. They do not add to the discussion, but add an additional stress level. More notes and assignments are scattered among the group.

2:00 – 3:00 P.M. – This is the wrap-up meeting. Some top executives checking their watches more than blackberries will attend to look interested. Most in the room are trying to make an impression or get a hint of attention from the decision makers.

3:00 – 5:00 P.M. – Put out fires, check more emails, go online and look at your personal website and contacts. Start making notes and PowerPoint presentations for tomorrow’s discussions of the same subjects with the same people.

5:00 – 6:00 P.M. – Roll up your sleeves and try to finish today’s work, piling more onto your desk and impressing everyone around you that you are working late.

6:00 – 7:00 P.M. – Pile into your vehicle and carry the huge amount of paperwork home. Get frustrated by the stress you are carrying with it and check your blackberry and cell.

7:00 – 10:00 P.M. – Unwind time! Prepare a meal, watch television, try to relieve yourself with your kids and papers and magazines and chitchat. Check the cell, there might be a happening communication.

10:00 – 1:00 A.M. – Prepare reports and presentations and personnel agendas for the next day. Check off all the daily assignments and surf the web for new responses and ideas and other nonsense.

1:00 – 5:00 A.M. – Uneasy restless sleep.

If this sounds familiar, you are in the “norm”.

This is what life is supposed to be about in the new communication age.

There was a time when your father and/or mother went to work from 9-5 and then spent the evenings with their family. Free from worries and fears from the oppressive dictations of the “job”.

The “Job” or work as we use to call it, was an assigned project or a task with expectations and rewards for exceeded completions.

All this was within a structure created by a corporation or company or government department with rules and procedures and policies.

Was this what you wished for?

When you were first asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

What did you say?

Did you follow that path?

LIFE throws a lot of curves at us and sometimes we cannot follow our “want” path, but now is the time to think about how much time we have given to others and NOT ourselves.

What are your dreams?

Now is the time to live them.

We all have a limited amount of “time” here and if we give it all away to a corporation or industry or instrumental body are we satisfying the dreams we had when we were young?

Think back to your youth. Beside kicking back and goofing off, what did you want to do that you excuse yourself now for not having enough time.

Write?

Paint?

Sew?

Create?

Teach?

Read?

Travel?

Explore?

Learn?

So NOW what is your excuse.

This is what you should enjoy and what makes you feel good and those around you happy.

Take “YOUR” time back and become yourself.

Change of Plans

Today's ride started on time, even though I was still drowsy. Perhaps I woke up too fast? Perhaps I enjoying the cool morning? Perhaps it was the two dozen silver bullets last night?

But as I walked to the end of the alley past the wreckage of the previous day with sparks in the air and huge guys cutting up my trees. "We'll drag them into the yard later and cut them up." I thought. That would be the afternoon project.

Looking left I remembered the construction going on Grove.

Change of plans.

I turned and headed north, past two stop lights before the Broad Street.

Turning left on the 3 block roadway, thinking about the unusual street grid in this neighborhood.

The downtown are was the typical grid of horizontal lanes and cross sections, but the Fan spread out this early sub-division of the River City. It pushed roads north, since the south was following the river.

By the time in the mid-forties, passing the railroad tracks, the grid started to break up.

Additional streets like Bromley and Lenord Parkway were put in. They lasted on a few blocks but filled the void so property would not overwhelm the small brick, stucco, and paneled houses.

Change in plans.

Like the pile of bedding, sofas, chairs, and dresses piled in front of one of those brick houses. Pass the church and bunnies it seemed someone had decided they would put all their worldly processions on the street, or at least next to it. There were no signs or human life visible. Just this pile of stuff. I wondered if this was a rental gone bad or a foreclosure. I don't have any idea of the story behind this mess, but I'm glad it is not me. At least, not yet.

I would think whoever bought and used these chairs and tables and sofas and beds purchased them to make life comfortable. I would think they would not move by just piling their belongings on the street. I would think they had a definate course of direction.....

Change in plans.