Through The Eyes of A Child
Warm coffee and a fresh pastry from our French bakery, La Baguette, for breakfast. Nice start to the day. Outside it’s cold, as it should be in November, and the morning sun is gradually illuminating the brilliant yellow, gold and brown of the oaks and maples that surround the house.
I’m the first one up, as usual, and this is my favorite time of the day, when all is quiet. The calm of morning, when my spirit is calm and quiet. No phones ringing. No tee-vee blaring away. No cars on the road, at least that I can hear. Soon, however, my idiot neighbor will fire up his leaf blower. (He did at 7:50 AM). At which point I’ll load my rifle and blow it out of his hand. (I didn’t.)
Soon, the chipmunks will be scurrying about, gathering up a few last acorns before their winter slumber. The Northern Cardinals, the early risers they are, are already bounding about from branch to branch in search of its morning meal. And somewhere else, miles from here, hundreds of humans are lined up, shivering in the cold, so they can explode through the doors of shopping malls and spend their hard earned money on cheap, plastic crap for their kids.
It’s the day after Thanksgiving, a good day to stay inside and read a book by a toasty fire.
The only thing better would be to head to the mountains and have a quiet stroll through the forest. Of late, my mind has almost constantly been on Colorado. Of how to get there. On how to stay there. Yesterday during the Thanksgiving dinner, I listened to several of my relatives talk about their various ski vacations, of this town and that town, the best ski lodges, etc. It was hard for me to bite my tongue and inform them of just how environmentally destructive that industry really is, what it does to towns and to the people that have lived there all of their lives. Small, quaint, affordable mountain towns become private playgrounds for rich folks, so expensive that the ski lift operators and young girls serving all the coffee and hot chocolate can’t afford to live there. But few people think of these things. All they really think about is their little circle of comfort and pleasure.
My favorite mountain town, Ridgway, has so far survived this mess, but danger is on the horizon. Developers are lurking about, mouths agape, saliva drooling downward over their lolling tongues and hungry looking teeth.
The rest of the family was perpetually attached to the tee-vees, two extremely large ones, watching NFL football. Years ago, I liked professional football, but finally and permanently lost interest after Joe Montana’s great run with the 49er’s. All I see today is an over-commercialized, non-sustainable product made up mostly of overpaid thugs and lunkheads, supported by even more lunkheads. It doesn’t have the spirit of the college game, although I must say that the college game is becoming very similar and hard to stomach.
So, there I sat, alone, thinking of Colorado and feeling unable to relate to the people around me. Every conversation turned to something I can’t stand. The NFL. Ski vacations. Shopping. Investment opportunities. Finally, I realized the answer was simple and all of the smart people had already figured it out. I went outside where all the little kids were! They ran and played through Jennifer’s back yard and gardens, unencumbered, running, laughing, playing and enjoying life. Like me, they didn’t give a shit about football. Shopping specials or ski lodges. All they wanted was to run and play outside.
Just like me.
And what a contrast it was. You could breathe and the distinctive smell of the garden was still present despite the fact that its summer glory was long past. The innocent laughter and joy of the children warmed my heart. But it also made me think “What’s happened to us?” What happens to so many (most) adults so that they forget what’s really important in life? Why so many adults spend their lives in cars, offices and malls, never going outside to run and hike or just roll around in the leaves and snow?
When I was a child, I remember thinking there’s much wonder about it all. Honeybees and garden spiders were fascinating. Watching the magnificent trees sway in the wind just before a storm. The dark clouds approaching from the river. The rare but much anticipated snow storms. It was all so much more interesting that the stodgy, boring world of my elders, and it still is.
Good question, what happens. I think for most it’s sort of thing where they work so they can play. To me that defeats the purpose. You should be able to find something you love and enjoy so you don’t ever have to work. Like football in highschool. Yah, it was a hell of a lot of hard work, but in the end it was mostly fun. People get caught up on advancing careers and developing the image that they forget the small wonders in life. It’s easy to do, but when you’re 80 and looking back I’m sure you will always regret not taking more time to enjoy life.