they paved paradise and put up a parking lot.

they're grading what used to be the cornfield behind where i live because they're going to build more homes where the corn used to be. but i liked looking at that corn. the sun used to settle real nice and low over it. but they're grading it anyway. and they probably don't care what i think about it.

i don't really blame them for not caring what i think about it. i don't care what they think about my grapevine tree on my back patio with an american flag stuck in it. which they have to look at whether they want to or not every time they pass this way with that stupid grader.

and they have passed by a lot. for almost 2 weeks now, every day, all day. how can any land be that uneven? unless it's a mountain.

speaking of mountains, how did they ever blast through those things and build roads? if it takes 2 weeks, 7 days in a week, every day, all day for, let's say, 8 hours a day to plow down a cornfield, how long does it take to build highway number whatever it is through west virginia? nobody knows the answer to that question because that's a story problem and nobody knows how to solve story problems.


most folks know how to roast corn, though.

a fun thing happened on the way to school. and on the way to growing up.

do they even make puddles anymore?



a childhood lived on the inside of a house instead of on the outside of a house is wrong. it isn't even a childhood.

childhood has to have puddles. it has to have mud pies and the sprinkler. no kid can grow up in america, turn out to be half-way decent, and never dive from the high dive for the first time with everybody cheering.

you gotta walk to school. you don't gotta walk 5 miles in a snowstorm but you at least gotta walk till you find a puddle. if the puddle comes after the school building, well, tough. tell your teacher you were on a field trip.

because you were.


you were on your knees, next to a puddle, and you saw clear to china. you traced the rainbow somebody left in it with their car oil. while they were driving somewhere important. fast.

you stopped at the five and dime and bought a popsicle. even if it was 8:00 in the morning. and you floated the stick like a boat.

in the puddle.



the one that isn't there anymore.

what you need

what you need is a front porch.


you need a front porch, some sweet tea, and a dog who sleeps in the sun.

you need the mailman to bring along the mail in his usual slow style and you say, "joe! late again i see," and joe says, "no such thing as late when i'm bringin' your bills." you smile, say, sit down here a minute and help me figure out the world.

and he does. and you do. somehow or other, between the two of you, with no more than 20 years of schoolin' between ya, you figure out the world. and you get it pretty dang near right. and the sun sets low and joe is off again, to finish his route. so he can get home by dark and tell his wife what a good life it is delivering the mail.



what you don't need is wikipedia.

autumn falling

spring is not when the leaves fall but it's when people are supposed to fall in love. everything's supposed to be newer and fresher and better in the spring.

it's not.


if you don't live in a part of the country where the leaves turn colors, i will move you to the top of my prayer list.

if you don't know what it's like to smell hickory fire on a cold and cloudy wednesday afternoon, move.



the beach smells like salt. it smells like fish.

ohio smells like a pie cooling in the window.

the southern states are good for sweat.

ohio is good for pot roast on the stove.

sun makes you hot.

country cabins in the middle of red gold and orange make you

warm.


falling in love in the spring is easy.

doing it in the fall is



easier.

coloring

when the kids come into my office (which has lots of things to play with in it) it's either the legos or the crayons that they go to first. if it's the legos, they eventually migrate to the crayons. if it's the crayons, they stick with the crayons.

with legos, you build things. with crayons, you dream things. good as building is, dreaming seems to win out.



i remember coloring all. the. time. as a kid. usually on the floor, on my stomach. if i tried that now, i'd be dead asleep in five flat seconds. might not be able to get back up, either.

when i went to my friends' houses or they came to mine, "wanna color?" was one of the first ideas thrown out there for what to do. the answer was rarely, "no." mattera fact, i don't know if it was ever "no."

contrary to popular myth, coloring in coloring books does not stunt your growth. staying in the lines does not lead to sociopathic behavior as an adult. not that there's anything wrong with coloring on plain paper. but there's nothing wrong with coloring in coloring books, either. if you're destined to be a picasso, no stupid little disney coloring book is gonna stop you.

occasionally at work, when things are slow, my colleagues and i will bring up the subject of coloring. and how maybe we oughta spend a few minutes right now, while not much is goin' on, to haul out the paper and crayons and get at it. 

but we never do.

we always end up sighing (remembering the good old days), shrug, and then we go back to our desks and even though it's a slow day, we find something "productive" to do.



sad. 

designer birthday parties

designer any parties. i'm gettin' sick of 'em. actually, i started out sick of 'em. and it's hard for me to imagine why the rest of you aren't/didn't.



creating a theme for your wedding? good Lord, no. please.

spending hundreds or thousands or tens of thousands of dollars on your kid's first (or second - or third - or whatever) birthday party? good Lord, hell, no. please.

going to maui for your bachelor(ette)party? good Lord hell, no, please. get over yourself.



i don't know why anyone would want the cake to overshadow the, um, marriage.

i don't know a single kid who gives a damn about the ven.ue. (unless we have taught him to.) 

you think you deserve to go to maui for your bachelor(ette)party? marry yourself.



go buy your kid a pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey set, for crying out loud. 

(they don't make those anymore? brown paper bag, crayons, scissors,tape, blindfold. done. under ten bucks. but, shhhhhh! don't tell the kids.)

not to mention that "holiday" really means "holy day"

most of us don't do any holiday right.

we botch up easter with jelly beans but no church. or jelly beans and church - but no church again till Christmas.

we let kids outa school on martin luther king day. as if letting kids outa school on martin luther king day teaches them anything about martin luther king.

we skip the st. patrick in st. patrick's day and go straight for the beer.

we ignore almost entirely veterans day and flag day.

we reserve the birth of our Savior for diamond engagement rings, macy's 1-day sales, and food. food, food, food. and stress. stress, stress, stress.

that we grill hamburgers on memorial day and independence day is more a function of summertime than of the holidays themselves. 

which brings us to labor day, wherein we celebrate the value and contribution of work by not working. (try explaining that to a 5-year old.)



try explaining any of this to a 5-year old.