A Little Bump in the Road

I made the mistake of checking the news when my phone woke me up at 2:30 last night, and I couldn't get back to sleep after that, no matter how many meditations and bedtime stories I listened to. The election results were crushingly disappointing: I really thought it was going to go the other way. 

As I lay there, I couldn't get that Batman movie quote about the hero Gotham needs versus the one it deserves out of my head. Which one is Batman? I wondered but didn't want to turn the phone on again. It turns out that Batman, incorruptible and strong, is the hero they deserve, but they need him to be a scapegoat and a villain. Yeah, it doesn't make much sense to me, either.

But what about America? Is Trump the president we need or the one we deserve right now? I think he's a deplorable character, but we elected him, so we deserve what we get. I sure don't think he's the guy we need for the job, but then, that's why I didn't vote for him. 

I read an article this morning that contained what I considered to be a bit of an understatement. The next four years are going to be rocky, it said.

I laughed, because we should be so lucky.

Kid Charming

On a long road trip, our conversation meanders, but it never wanders far from school and teaching. Despite my retirement in June, this trip was no exception. At one point, we were talking about a group of kids we both knew who were very charismatic, even if they were challenging in the classroom. 

I told Heidi about a time when the other teacher in my co-taught class was out, and I was fussing at some of the kids. 

One of them raised his hand. "What happened to the nice teacher?" he asked.

I raised my eyebrows. "What are you saying?"

He flashed his dimples at me and smiled. "I mean, what happened to the other nice teacher?"

Now, those are some social skills!

Five Dogs, Will Travel

What happened to the other house? my sister-in-law texted when I sent a link to one more possibility for our Thanksgiving beach trip.

This one has a more generous dog policy, I replied.

Oh good, she answered, we have a generous amount of dogs.

Demolition Delight

As fall rapidly winds into winter up here in Buffalo, Heidi's mom had a few lawn chores for us to help with today. After we stored away the bird baths, grill, and hanging swing, there was the matter of the old double settee. Made of pine, ten or more seasons of use had taken its toll on the piece: the mortise and tenon joints were loose, the wood on the seats was rotten, and it was no longer safe to sit upon.

A lovely teak replacement was already stowed in anticipation of next summer, but the old one had to be demolished before hauling it out for trash pick-up. I hunted down a hammer to do the job, and the ease and gratifying crack with which the first slats were knocked off inspired me to make quick work of the piece. In under fifteen minutes, the settee was reduced to a neat stack of lumber. 

I'm always sad when something has reached the end of its natural life, but today I was reminded of how satisfying it can be to tear something apart. "Let me know if you have anything else for me to destroy!" I told my mother-in-law gleefully.

"I think you enjoyed that a little too much," she answered with raised eyebrow. "But, thank you. I will"

Uphill Both Ways

 "Look! That place has four carved pumpkins!" Heidi pointed out on our walk this afternoon.

"Wow," I said, examining the faces of the jack o'lanterns. "Each kid must have gotten their own." We continued down the street. "Times sure have changed," I added. "When we were little, my parents just got one pumpkin."

"Us, too," Heidi said. "I don't think anyone had more than one."

"We had to draw slips of paper out of a hat to see who got to design which feature," I laughed. "One got the eyes, another the nose, and the third, the mouth. Then my mom drew them on the pumpkin, and my dad carved them." I shrugged. "It worked."

Manifold

Like the road to the White House, the road to Buffalo goes through Pennsylvania, and we saw many political signs on our way through that state today. 

Since our route was primarily rural, the preponderance was pro-Trump. Most were standard campaign road signs, although there was a green banner in a field reading "Farmers for Trump" and then a whole field with enormous block letters spelling the former president's name mown into it. There were also many flags with various messages, including, "I stand with the convicted felon." Few messages were vulgar; perhaps the worst was a hand-painted sign reading, "Vote for Trump, not the Tramp."

But there were other signs, too, and every time we saw one for Harris and Walz, it fanned a glimmer of hope in our hearts.

A Halloween Fright

I heard the smart tattoo of a snare drum today when Lucy and I headed out for our midday walk, and I knew the Halloween parade at the elementary school up the hill was kicking off. When we got up there, we were treated to the spectacle of hundreds of costumed kids trooping around the track, led by the high school marching band.

In truth, it was the band I was most excited to see. I scanned the group as they promenaded by to see if I recognized any former students. It was tough: their faces were shadowed by the brims of their caps and obscured by their instruments. Focused on the twin tasks of playing and marching, most of the young musicians ignored me and the rest of their audience, but there was an exception. A single trumpet player's eyes grew huge when they spotted me standing by the fence. 

"Angel!" I waved.

He blushed, looked away, and kept on marching. 

I was a little sad, but I understood. 

Sometimes, there's nothing scarier than your teacher calling on you when you're not ready.