Lawn Furniture

It is funny that if you have a lawn, you have to fill it with furniture. Just like your living room, a lawn is a space to sit and lounge and enjoy, but not covered from the elements.

My recollections are the lawn furniture boom started in the 50’s with suburbia. People were proud of their plots of land and covered them in grass to cut every weekend. And to be neighborly, started cookouts and grilling in the backyards. So the neighbors would come over and eat you abundance, but they needed someplace to sit.

So metal was a popular material of the day used for cars and refrigerators, so why not furniture. But if left outside, the metal would rust and had to be constantly painted until it fell apart. And you better buy some cushions because those suckers get hot.

Wood was always available and Adirondack chairs became a fixture for beachfronts and backyards. Unfortunately, wood roots. No matter how many coatings of preservatives, the chairs and benches and tables will splinter and will require constant power washing.

Then plastic comes along. It is easy to move because all the lawn furniture must be moved every time you mow the lawn. Yet plastic gets soft in the sunshine and loses its sterility.

But sitting on grass, wet grass or dry grass, there comes the bugs. Lots of flying and biting bugs attack those who venture out into the yard. Another industry for bug repellent sprays and contraptions is formed and blossoms to this day.

So to keep up with the Jones and keep away from the pest, people build decks to rise above the lawn. Like an extension of the house, the lawn furniture can be sheltered under umbrellas while guest can still enjoy the view of a green lawn and listen to the birds.

If that is not good enough, build a sunroom so you can air-condition the outside world inside behind glass.

It is nature’s way.

Who Is Your Favorite?

You can’t avoid it. There are people and things that are your favorites. There are favorite movies and favorite colors and favorite hairstyles and favorite cars and favorite food and favorite television shows and favorite music and favorite children….

What? Wait a minute. Favorite children?

You’ve heard the line, “She is mom’s favorite”. Or “She’s daddy’s little girl” or the ever present “That’s my boy” at every gathering of parents.

Parents pride is a sibling’s challenge to achieve. More than birthday presents or the occasion praise, children listen and know who is the ‘favorite’.

Maybe the kid who is better behaved or has the most accomplishments or is the most successful or better looking, kids know their place in the pecking order.

As rude as that sounds, we all find our place in society …and family.

What do you think?

This is why we have friends. This is why we talk to each other. We want to know what someone else’s opinion is on an issue or a statement or an event.

We learn and grow by bouncing ideas off of each other. We hear different experiences and points of view that widen our knowledge base.

Teachers tell us philosophies and formulas and historical facts and ask us to us reply on a test. Parents teach us the basics of life to get dressed and eat and not poop in our pants. Religious leaders preach the virtues of right and wrong according to their God.

Yet we find confidants, those who think like we do, to reaffirm ideas and opinions. There is a certain trust in telling your deepest feelings to a friend knowing there will be no judgment.

So why is social media so full of crap?

The ability to make a comment on anybodies thought process in the most pervasive or demining way accomplishes nothing. If we cannot hear the voice of another, we can read their thought process and hopefully add to the discussion without ignorant comments. An angry comment face-to-face will usually get a punch, but hidden behind the invisible wall of technology, anyone can say anything.

For that is the freedom of speech. Bullying or condemnation or belittlement seems also to fit in this right.

If we cherish another’s point of view or opinion and learn from them, we evolve and grow. If I make a statement and do not like your response, I can ponder the reason why and categorize it with my own beliefs.

If the response is hateful, you will be merely deleted. What do you think?

Hey Babe

7/4/2015

Hey Babe,

Six years later and I’m still here and you are still there. So here is my report of the past year as if you didn’t already know.

Fall was great and then winter hit with a bang. Much colder than normal but Mister Heat keep me comfy in sweats. Only a few days I couldn’t ride due to ice and I’d judge how cold it was by the number of layers I’d wear. Note to self: Put up the winter clothes, it is July already.

I haven’t done much around the house. Got all the tools but no initiative. Oh, I did get some cushions to check off my old ‘to-do’ list. Ordered them online (I know you don’t know what that means) and got parts and pieces and one that never arrived. Still they were very nice about it and Lowe’s is still my go-to place for house stuff. Other than that, I’ve been sitting on my duff. There is still plenty of painting and scraping and sanding and polishing and cleaning to be done, but there is always tomorrow.

The yard did well through the cold. I got a string trimmer last fall and couldn’t find the refills. Wrong season, but found something to make it work. Cut some of the ornamental grass in the back and then thought that was a bad idea. It is growing back OK, so this fall I’ll attempt to trim the jungle out front. Lost a couple of boxwoods and have a couple more that are looking pale. Don’t know what happened. Probably need some fertilizer like you always mixed up. I just don’t have that green thumb.

On the other hand the bamboo is sprouting all over the place. I’ll trim that back in the fall too, but the bunnies like it as shelter.

Yes, there are bunnies again in the yard. Little itty bitty grey ones with white tails about the size of chipmunks are hopping around all over the place. And mamma has her spot over by the fence where she can sleep. And they all like blueberries.

Everyone likes blueberries. Of course grey jay came back and brought her cousins. Shoot, she brought the whole family. They are all over the place, dozens of them and just as pretty and curious as always. It is always good to see them to tell me winter is over.

Best part is I’ve not seen any cats or hawks.

Other than riding to the store everyday, I haven’t done much. Well, I did take a trip up to Pittsburgh for a brief visit with David and Maxine (you remember them?). Got to see their weaving projects and learn his music technique and see some incredible cobblestone hills. Nice ride with Art there and back and crazy wacked out friends from college.

David even came down here for a bike tour. Bought an inflatable bed for him but the pump didn’t work, so he got the regale appointments of sleeping on the floor in aforementioned cushions. Kensington Manor is still a class act.

We took a tour of his old neighborhood. It was interesting to see where a person I had only briefly known in college grew up in different circles only a mile away.

Then David and I traveled up to Delaware to visit with Art and Melissa and their critters. David went home and I stayed for a couple of days until Art and Melissa had enough of me and brought me back home. I don’t think I broke nothing and put on enough stinky stuff as not to offend, but watched some movies and talked and was a relaxing time with an old buddy. It was interesting living in someone else’s shoes.

Gregg and Nancy came down (you remember them from the backyard) for a like 80^th year high school reunion and we had breakfast at McLean’s and walked around the old neighborhood. The one thing I got out of David’s and Gregg’s visit is I’ve lived in this town for so long, every block has a story.

Oh and I went up to Virginia Tech to watch a football game with my brother. I hadn’t been to Blacksburg since he went there way back in the day and the school is very impressive and big and the game was fun to be part of what I watch on television but be part of the crowd. I think the best part was some woman sitting in front of us doing cheers. It is a different world.

The neighborhood has been fairly quiet. Got some new neighbors behind and some new folks next door in Edna’s old place. Nice couple with a young baby. It is strange to hear children next door.

Three of my friend’s wives joined you. It is a club we didn’t ask to join.

The city is doing some roadwork in the neighborhood so I have to vary my paths to avoid the noise and mayhem. Seems the economy is getting better because neighbors all around are expanding houses. Some houses are just being torn down and replaced with a new mansion. The little plot of land Puppywoods has held it’s value but I looked at the city assessment and the quality was ‘good for it’s age’. Just like me.

Other than that, I’m pretty dull and boring. Premade salads, frozen pizzas, and sandwiches with a dash of OJ and V-8 and some instant coffee and lots of beer is my diet. The most healthy, not so much, but I still feel somewhat OK and now and then can sleep for more than 3 hours at a time.

Oh I forgot to tell you about the other new neighbor. We have an owl. Well not just one owl but two owls. They showed up in the fall. I saw them over by Willow Lawn and Al (that is what I call him) perched himself on the birch. I tried to chase him off but he just went from one spot to another giving me that look like ‘you dumb human, WHOO do you think you are?’ Well he seems to have settled into the yard and the other critters don’t seem to mind him now. He went through the winter and spring and has gotten accustomed to my voice so I can get within a few feet without him getting disturbed. We even talk to each other. He has this clicking he does with his mouth and he turns his head and nods. I’ve seen him wink and even close his eyes and sleep. Al snores. He is there in the morning and about 4 o’clock he give a ‘hoot’ to go off to do his owl stuff. Al is a very impressive guy.

Al’s girlfriend, I call Ollie, is much smaller and quieter, but he is very protective of her. Haven’t seen any owlet’s yet, but time will tell.

So have I rambled on enough? Probably so, but it is therapeutic for me to write you a letter every year. See you next year, one way or another.

Until then,

Your widowed husband

BEER

Beer, for me, is the drink of choice. It seems that drink we must and we must have hydration to survive, but that source of water can be adapted to include alcohol.

Beer seems to be one of our basic drinks along with water, tea and wine. Beer is basically a brewing process of combining starch and sugar and enzymes and malted grains and hops and….. So on and so on. There are thousands of variations and names and brands and flavors and more and more everyday. With the introduction of craft beers on every corner, no one has to wander very far for a pint or a growler.

Through the years, beer was the most acceptable and available and affordable beverage of choice. The alcohol content varied through the years but settled into mostly water. People buy plastic bottles of water in every shape and size and I just buy cans. The distributors keep me with a plentiful supply and I can afford the constant hydration.

There are many selections of others I could partake, but this drink seems to be my demon of choice. In the summer there is nothing better than an ice cold beer and in the winter by the fire a dark beer is as good as a steaming cup of coffee.

So I for one will carry on the legacy of this sudsy yellow potion.

BURP!

My Family Had Slaves

As politically incorrect in today’s acceptable society, it is part of my ancestry. Does that make me a racist? A bigot? Or is it part of history?

It is recorded that some of my ancestries had in their inventory ‘people’. Labeled like livestock or cattle there were listings of the number of slaves.

These listings of records were made in marriages or estates for tax purposes. It was also a sign of wealth.

That said, it means a former family member or an assigned taskmaster was present at a slave auction to bid on a ‘person’ just like a cow or a horse or a wagon. As appalling as that sounds today, one must remember the time and the place.

Slaves were necessary to agricultural families because they could not produce enough children fast enough to harvest crops and neighbors had the same problem. Families could not maintain their spreads of land presented to them in the new world.

Forgivable? Absolutely not, but unfortunately the act of enslaving other people has gone on since the beginning of time. Buying a ‘person’ was status quo like buying a refrigerator today.

And many, many cultures and countries were involved in the procuring, distribution and retail of ‘people’. The owner of another person had to provide food and shelter and clothing for their ‘slaves’ but little else. A slave was on his or her own to become educated or entertained or endures basic survival after being purchased.

I have no record of who these people were or their names or their duties in the households or if they were cared for or abused or their families or their kin today. I do not have a record of the race of the slaves. I only have a record of age being over or under 16. I have a brief line in history that one human being with my last name could purchase another human being for whatever purpose.

In a class society, there will always be a superior and unfortunate subordinate culture. Race, religion, height, title, family heritage not withstanding, our society adapts and changes. We cannot change history but only reflect how we have progressed.

Does that my family owned other people make me a racist? Does that I realized at an early age that people of color reacted differently to people that looked like me make be a racist? Does it matter I realized what was socially accepted was not what was preached? Does it matter I stood on the sidelines during the conflict of segregation vs. integration make me a racist?

The discussion of the act of enslaving another for whatever purpose cannot be understood or comprehended in our modern society. I know because I watched the changes from Jim Crow to desegregation in the capitol of the Confederacy with huge monuments to generals who lost the cause for state’s rights. We now pledge allegiance to the stars and strips and sing the national anthem and we are a United States, but history does not go away.

One hundred and fifty years ago the commonwealth I was born and grew up in said this:

“AN ORDINANCE to repeal the ratification of the Constitution of the United State of America by the State of Virginia, and to resume all the rights and powers granted under said Constitution.

The people of Virginia in their ratification of the Constitution of the United States of America, adopted by them in convention on the twenty-fifth day of June, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and eighty-eight, having declared that the powers granted under said Constitution were derived from the people of the United States and might be resumed whensoever the same should be perverted to their injury and oppression, and the Federal Government having perverted said powers not only to the injury of the people of Virginia, but to the oppression of the Southern slave-holding States:

Now, therefore, we, the people of Virginia, do declare and ordain, That the ordinance adopted by the people of this State in convention on the twenty-fifth day of June, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and eighty-eight, whereby the Constitution of the United States of America was ratified, and all acts of the General Assembly of this State ratifying and adopting amendments to said Constitution, are hereby repealed and abrogated; that the union between the State of Virginia and the other States under the Constitution aforesaid is hereby dissolved, and that the State of Virginia is in the full possession and exercise of all the rights of sovereignty which belong and appertain to a free and independent State.

And they do further declare, That said Constitution of the United States of America is no longer binding on any of the citizens of this State.

This ordinance shall take effect and be an act of this day, when ratified by a majority of the voter of the people of this State cast at a poll to be taken thereon on the fourth Thursday in May next, in pursuance of a schedule hereafter to be enacted.
Adopted by the convention of Virginia April 17,1861 ratified by a vote of 132,201 to 37,451 on 23 May 1861.”

With all the talk about heritage and symbols, there are some basic facts. People used to be marketed. Today they still are.

Today people are moved from place to place to cultivate our crops and provided us with the inexpensive and plentiful food we indulge in. They live in squallier and though not called ‘slaves’, are used for toiling jobs with little pay. 

Is it freedom or is it 21^st century slavery?

You decide.

The Gold Watch

On father’s day, one remembers what made the man who brought you into life. Looking through old pictures and genealogy tells you some things but you really didn’t know that man. You spent all your growing up days with this guy, but he was ‘dad’ and he was there to provide shelter, food, transportation, and always had an extra $5 in his pocket for you.

Dads are different to boys than girls. I didn’t have any sisters, but I’ve heard they were ‘daddy’s girls’, so when I was dating I avoided her dad.

Now boys are suppose to follow in our father’s footsteps. Not only were dads to make sure you got off to school on time and instructed you on how to stand as a man to pee, but they are also required to hand down their skills and wisdom. It is in the dad’s contract.

This hand-me-down task comes from fathers to sons. The father passes on the skills of hunting, fishing, working on cars and woodworking while handing over tools and techniques to the next generation. It is a rite of passage growing up.

Dads don’t talk about old girlfriends or late night drunks or encounters with the law. They don’t talk about career failures or questionable decisions, but attempt to point the sired children to a more positive path. And it is acceptable for him to nod off in church, because he made sure you put on your coat and tie and arrived on time.

My dad was 43 when I was born. We were generations apart but he let me be who I wanted to be. When he died, I had to deal with much of the remains.

There were ties given to him years before on Father’s Day, now old and wrinkled with food stains, suits ten years out of style, bottles of Old Spice (his favorite) aftershave never opened, Christmas lights he’d string on the magnolia tree out back every year, and even that gigantic yellow convertible with the torn top he must have bought on a whim because he was much more practical than that. His funeral was back in his hometown with lots of old folk sitting around talking about him from before I was born. I should have taken notes because I really didn’t know the man.

One of the few personal items I found was a gold watch. It appeared to be a watch passed down to him from his dad and maybe before that. Stuffed in the back of an underwear drawer; a gold pocket watch with a pop up lid and a chain with a fob on it. I never saw my dad wear this watch, but he kept it safe to pass down to his first-born, like the family bible.

The heir of the family name (and his father’s name) has the gold watch to pass down to his son. And that is what dads are for.

Painting of gold watch by Hall Groat II