The Wind and Sleet

I had bought my nephew a leather jacket when he was younger.  It was a hit.  He was only five years-old, so it was wasn’t something he was going to have a strong opinion about.  Everyone thought he looked cute.  Now he’s twelve. 

I’ve done electric guitars, amps, drums and lots of albums, in years past.  Intergenerational gestures I made certainly to my stepson and daughters when they were growing up.  So, I have another chance to suggest how much I love this music or these musicians.  But kids don’t want albums.  What’s the point?  All the songs are free and ubiquitous.  Of course, vinyl sounds different even on a close-and-play turntable and the tactile magic of the large photo front and back speak to something special, much as I might have engaged with a daguerreotype at that age. 

Christmas doesn’t wait for you to figure these things out.  It arrives, day by day.  The thin window of during which a timely delivery is possible narrows down to now and you’ll need to decide.  Among other things I hit ‘send’ on was the double vinyl original edition of “Quadrophenia” by The Who and a mod-parka.  Would a mod-parka be cool to a contemporary twelve-year-old as it was to me at that age?  Would “Quadrophenia” even remotely interest him, like the rush I felt when I saw the film at about thirteen years of age?

I managed to watch, amidst the frenzy of present openings when he got ahold of the package with the coat.  He pulled it out and eagerly put it on to discover that it was about three sizes too big for him.   I’d have worn an XL, so I think of “medium” as tiny but on him it was droopy and comic.  We discussed how to return the thing and precisely what his proper size should have been. 

Most of Christmas went well.  The book I got my mom she and everyone else had already read a few years back.  My nephew was polite about the album, though it didn’t seem to be of much interest.  I’ll need to try again with the ‘wartime coat’ as Pete Townshend sings, for the ‘wind and sleet.’  I ask and we share a few clips of the Rutles movie on his phone.  But we didn’t have time for Jimmy and the scooters today, as I'd imagined we would. 

Wednesday 12/25/19

Quickly to the Left

The Mid-Hudson Bridge, mid-morning on Christmas Eve.  It isn’t a good habit, but I can’t help but stare down river and swallow in some of the icy blue majesty.  Consider the traffic once again, the steel girders swing up, holding us all in place above the river that green to the north as I look quickly, to the left.  I’ve told my daughters over and over that my grandfather apparently used to walk over the frozen river to work, before the ice breakers, back near the turn of the century.  They don’t seem to need icebreakers these days. 

My stepson and his wife will be arriving shortly down below at the station.  Instead of going to meet them, I go first to my mother’s.  Instinctive.  That property has pulled me towards it for all my life.   We need to get rid of presents at my mothers.   My sister is up.  My nephew is out with my father in-law.  He won’t be able to join us as I’d hoped.  My daughter and I make two loads each and I a third.  “Can you help to put them under the tree?”  “The porch?”  Alright.

They are already there waiting for us at the station.  Was just with them in Beijing a few weeks ago.  And back at my mom’s again, everyone is glad to see each other.  My sister is anxious.  She’s been told to finish her big cooking operation and clear out of the kitchen.  My mom is calm and gracious when she enters the kitchen as if my sister were talking about another person. 

We cross back over the Hudson and visit my dad as well.  And by then my wife is a bit frustrated that she’s left at home, waiting for our return.  And when we get there, they all head off again over the river, to get their last-minute shopping done.  And this evening, not long after they’re back, we’ll all head over the fjord once again, for the supper at my mom’s.

Tuesday 12/24/19

Delivery Folk Are Working

I got the pink slip from the postman yesterday: “The driveway’s dangerous.  Come pick up.”  I considered that it would have been preferable if he’d just left it there, though he probably did the right thing, and I would have been rather frustrated if someone had swiped em’.  There are a lot of things on the way and it would have made for an attractive hoard.  I went over to visit the post office.  It isn’t far.  But even though the delivery folk are working hard, the office itself was closed. 

Today, I got my car parked and headed on in to find a rather significant line, snaking around the place.  I assumed lots of these people were picking things up but when the guy called out: “anyone here for pickups” the lady in front of me and I both piped up and said: “Yeah.”  But no one else did.  The lady ahead of me got a packaged and turned to leave.  The big guy with the buzz-cut and the Christmas tie on said: “Oh, you.  You gotta ton of stuff back here.”  And soon he wheeled back around the corner with a large cart with twenty different boxes in it.  I told him I’d likely see him again soon, as there was more on the way. 

Later, back at the head of my driveway, I parked to check the mailbox, and as luck would have it the postman drove up.  I laughed and asked whether or not he had another big assortment for me, but he only had two or three more packages.  “Why’d you wait so long?” He asked and I wondered if I was the exception or the rule.  Considering our snowy path, he apologized and said he couldn’t risk taking the jeep down my driveway and considering the simple vehicle beneath the frame, I couldn’t but agree.  I wouldn’t drive that thing down this road either, unless I didn’t care whether it became stuck or not.  “No worries.  And if you want you can leave it right, he tomorrow.  I don’t mind.” “You sure?   OK Then.”

The carpenters working on a building next door had two German Shepherds which came over my way yelping until the workman called them back.  Apparently, there is a church going up next door.  I couldn’t tell you what denomination they were.  I scraped a bit more snow and just then a Central Hudson Electric truck came out of their parking lot and went down mine.  Later, the driver returned, and she mentioned that she liked that I was shoveling and would be happy to come and read our meter tomorrow.  But if I didn’t mind, she’d hold off on driving down there today.  I bid her farewell and a Merry Christmas and suggested she come back any time she like. 

Monday 12/23/19