This was the weekend I usually only dream about.
After visiting Blake at the local car dealership to consider whether I want to buy a new car or hang on to my current one, Earl and I returned home; he watched both college and professional football while I read and played piano and read and played piano without a commitment in sight.
I finished The Other Side of the River for the second time; it’s something of a documentary about St. Joseph and Benton Harbor and a certain death that occurred here in the early 1990s. At the same time, it’s an allegory for race relations in our country. I read my older son’s still-searching-for-a-publisher novel about crime in the Twin Cities. Which is also allegory for mobs and crime and the police. There’s something parallel about these two books. Then I attacked the local newspaper and the Sunday edition of the Chicago Tribune.
Also practiced piano like a dervish. Did the usual technique exercises. Studied a classical piece that wasn’t a challenge and an arrangement of the “Star Spangled Banner” that was. Pulled more than a couple weeds as the weather disinvited mosquitoes and invited me to get outside and be one with Mother Nature. I hadn’t been with her in a while.
Heard from both my sons, which makes any weekend a winner even without the reading and piano playing and weed pulling. They are both fine,both following their own paths. I feel as if I’m following mine too.
All in all, what life should be about.
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