My Dad In My Ears

If I bike to the gym, I needn’t stomp around trying to break a sweat on the stair master.  I should ride with a feeling.  I should try to make sure there is some perspiration to show for my effort. But if exercise is the main stage of activity, getting there and getting away should lend itself to the effort. 

No tremendous surprise, but my neighborhood is more interesting on a bike than in a car.  This segue I’ve passed along many hundreds of times has field, behind the parking lot.  And there is a German Shepherd out in the field, along with a rather less intimidating mutt who stands ready to bark, alongside him.  I hadn’t realized that this collection of establishments has bars and cafes which I’d otherwise completely, disregarded .

Not long after setting out I decide to call my father.  We have a nice exchange.  It’s easy enough to talk while you ride along and we go over family gossip and summer plans and necessarily make time to curse Trump.  I walk with my dad in my ears up to the gym on this, the first day after the kids are done to find out that the gym won’t open until 10:00AM.  Oh.  Really?  Right. 

Riding home I bump into the high school principal.  We’d tried to meet two days back.  Be both owed each other a phone call.  He offered to turn around and run now, with me in my direction.  “The air is bad today anyway.”  I wanted to discuss my older daughter.  I wanted him to know that she was worked so hard that she was losing the fun of study, the joy of exploration.  He has good anecdotes.  So do I.  But I suspect we both know that these circumstances will remain gruelling.  

Friday 6/15/18