A Bit of Personal Stuff (Part one)

Since this blog has been, and will continue to be completely unread, I will throw out some personal information. Who knows, maybe it will be therapeutic.  

I’ve always been interested in nature. When I grew up, we lived across the street from a couple of acres of woodlot. A tiny creek ran through it. This was in the suburbs of Boston. I would go over into the woods and explore. I’d turn over rocks and small, decaying logs to see what was underneath. I would study tree leaves. I’d look to see how they were structured, and what insects were on them. I would have my ears opened too. Any unusual bird calls would catch my attention. This crazy interest of mine began when I was about eight years old and it is still going on today, although these days I have a lot more interests that are using my time.

I went to Cornell to study nature, natural resources, technically. I had a great time there. In the early summer of 2007, following my sophomore year, I visited a city park here in Boston just to look around and get some fresh air. Going down a trail, I came along a guy examining what looked to be on odd piece of bark, holding it in the palm of his hand, only I knew it wasn’t bark he was holding. The man was about 30 or so and not particularly good-looking, but not ugly either. With a smile upon my face, I informed him that I thought he was holding a piece of fox or raccoon poop. He dropped it instantly, as though it were burning his hands. It was pretty funny. I then continued on down the trail.

A short time later I saw the same guy in the parking lot as I was walking to my car. He told me that he knew he was being forward, but that he wondered if I would be interested in going for an ice cream cone at the Dairy Queen. He told me that it was a way of thanking me for informing him about the poop he had mistakenly been holding. Although he surprised me by coming up to me and inquiring, I found his offer sort of sweet, maybe even quaint. I mean; the Dairy Queen. Still, I told him no thanks. After all, I did not know him at all.

He climbed into his car and I climbed into mine. I was right behind him as we drove the road that led out of the park. When we got to the main road it started to rain. He turned right, and after a couple of cars went by, I turned right too, headed for home. We traveled down a block or two to a red traffic light where we came to a halt with me a few cars behind. There, off on the side of the road at this intersection was an older woman waiting at a bus stop in the rain. Suddenly, fifty feet up ahead, the guy who had offered me a trip to the Dairy Queen hurried out of his car with a closed umbrella in his hand. As he rushed to the woman at the bus stop he popped open the umbrella. He presented it to the completely shocked woman, and then scampered through the rain, back to his car.

I had never seen such an act of kindness before, and it completely blew me away. I was so taken that for a moment I did not put my foot on the gas and consequently received a horn toot from the driver behind me, urging me to get moving.

I am not exactly an assertive person socially, but I knew that I had to follow this man. I paid close attention to his car until it turned into an apartment parking lot a few minutes later. I pulled up alongside, lowered my car’s passenger window, and asked him if he knew of a nearby Dairy Queen. It turned out that he did.

Thanks Dad

Okay, I just started this dumb blog and this is my second blog entry, but it should have been my first. This entry is about my father. No it's not Father's Day. It is Memorial Day, or at least tomorrow is Memorial Day. My father is a Vietnam veteran. He actually was in on the fighting. He doesn't talk about it much, but I know. He had a friend killed in action. As far as I can tell, Vietnam did not leave a mark on dad, inside or out. He is a super nice guy. Growing up, he never spanked me. He didn't even shout at me. But I remember one time when I was about 15 and I did something I shouldn't, he looked me right in the eye and told me in this solemn voice how disappointed he was in me. He then turned and walked away. I went to my room and cried. That's the kind of effect he had on me. That's the kind of effect he still has on me almost 13 years later.

Vietnam didn't leave a mark on my father but I think there's still some military in him. Several months ago he paid a visit to my apartment to do some handyman work, and my extra parking space was being used without my approval by some neighbor, so there was nowhere for my dad to park. Well, he parked right behind the neighbor's car, blocking him in. When the neighbor wanted to drive off, he had to come to my apartment and ask my father to move his car. The neighbor, a guy in his 20s, seemed agitated that my father would block him in. My father said that he should have asked permission before using someone else's parking space. The guy rolled his eyes in annoying indifference at my father's suggestion. The attitude did not sit well with my dad and he said so to the guy, eyeball to eyeball. It was a little bit scary for a few seconds. My father is 62 but he jogs and lifts weights, and oh yeah, he pretty much demands respect. The neighbor has not used my extra parking space since. Gosh, I wonder why not.

I'm going to go over to my parents' house tomorrow with a six pack of Samuel Adams Lager Beer. I'm going to drink one with my father while we watch a baseball game. It will be Memorial Day and I'm going to remember that my father is a veteran... and a very special man.

Humming Along

This is my first blog entry and to tell you the truth, I don't have a clue of what to write about. I'm thinking of making it sort of like a diary, but I don't know; maybe that's not such a good idea, posting personal stuff. On the other hand who would care? In fact, who would ever read it? After all, it's one silly little blog in a great big internet. I'll give it some thought. Maybe for my next blog entry I'll get more personal.

Okay, I know; I'm going to write about some really basic part of me and then expand on it with something that happened recently, something boring, I'm sorry to say.

I am an outdoor person... well, sort of. I like to go down a wooded trail and look around and see what's there around me, but I'm not much of a camper. I don't fish or hunt either. But I can identify most foliage, and almost all trees either by their leaves, or their bark. I know my birds too, pretty much. I know a bluebird from a bluejay. I know a scarlet tanager from a summer tanager. However I do not know my fish. You would think I would, given my proximity near the ocean, but no, I don't.

Anyway, I hung up a hummingbird feeder last week outside my apartment. I've never put up a bird feeder of any kind and it's kind of unusual to start with a hummingbird feeder rather than a traditional seed-filled feeder. So anyhow, I had the feeder up for about two hours when it got a visitor. It was a female ruby-throated hummingbird. She sipped on the feeder's juice now and then, and stayed within eyesight for about ten minutes before disappearing. I got so excited I called my mother who could not have cared less.

Now there's an opening blog entry that will leave readers spellbound and wanting more. Fortunately the only reader will be me, assuming I proofread, and I probably will.