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I was thinking that today it is what it is and tomorrow it is whatever that will be. What I'm really wondering is , when today becomes yesterday will what it is be what it was or what it will be tomorrow, or will it be might be or might have been? It's all so confusing. My younger self had it figured this way. Whatever it is. In many ways it's all the same thing. Fruits, nuts, and candies. The occasional orange. That's about it...
Yesterday never happened.
Tomorrow will never happen.
Today is all that is happening.
I was thinking that today it is what it is and tomorrow it is whatever that will be. What I'm really wondering is , when today becomes yesterday will what it is be what it was or what it will be tomorrow, or will it be might be or might have been? It's all so confusing. My younger self had it figured this way. Whatever it is. In many ways it's all the same thing. Fruits, nuts, and candies. The occasional orange. That's about it...
A reminiscence of sorts, 8-13
Hi-five if, during hot summer vacation from school days you ever smelled hot tar that was sprayed on dirt roads in your small city, pulled a wagon thru your neighborhood collecting pop bottles to cash in for the 3 cent deposit, mowed yards for $2.50, was a paper boy, spent all your money on records, candy, sports cards, and fishing poles, climbed many a tree, made your own sling from shoestrings and a shoe tongue or a sling-shot from a perfect "Y" or kites complete with sticks and newspaper and a stick for a string winder, continued stick designs with bows and arrows and said kite string, played tag football in the street and basketball on swept dirt with a goal nailed to a tree, built your own bicycles, built your first skateboard out of a 2x4 and your sisters roller skate (nails only. no screws) swam in lakes, creeks, storm drains, and farm ponds, built treehouses with scarfed lumber from new construction sites, camped out in the back yard and stayed up all night warring with green apples against pals doing the same thing the next street over, watched Saturday morning cartoons and the Vietnam war news on a black and white tv, and watched as older neighborhood boys left to fight in it, went with your father to various junkyards looking for parts to keep the car rolling, had a cool washcloth and fan for air conditioning, ate at McDonalds before 1 million were served, got sex education (of sorts) from smuggled nekkid mags, tried to hang around older boys until they got tired of you and kicked your ass, went to Sunday School but skipped church service hiding behind an RC Cola machine at the seedy motel next door while sipping a cold one bought with offering change, saw the klan burn a giant cross while you hid in the hedges, watched with your buddies from the shadows the older hooligans not sent to war work on their cars and spend their grocery bagging and gas station attendant pay getting drunk at night and wrapping rags around their fists for play at bloody fisticuffs illuminated by barrel fire light...
marked summer youth laying in tall broom straw watching clouds float by and listening to the shrill call of the proverbial blue jay...
Forget how old I was but definitely not a teenager yet. I use to go down by the river with a wooden stick, probably 1x3 or close to that. I would pick up a rock, throw it up in the air and hit it. I was pretending to play ball and depending on how far the rock went and what trajectory it had, I would decide if it was a hit or an out. I even kept score. Occasionally I would hit a HR.
But what I recall best of my summer vacations from school is that the whole month of June felt like a Friday, the whole month of July felt like a Saturday and August felt like a Sunday with school right around the corner.
A reminiscence of sorts, 8-13
Hi-five if, during hot summer vacation from school days you ever smelled hot tar that was sprayed on dirt roads in your small city, pulled a wagon thru your neighborhood collecting pop bottles to cash in for the 3 cent deposit, mowed yards for $2.50, was a paper boy, spent all your money on records, candy, sports cards, and fishing poles, climbed many a tree, made your own sling from shoestrings and a shoe tongue or a sling-shot from a perfect "Y" or kites complete with sticks and newspaper and a stick for a string winder, continued stick designs with bows and arrows and said kite string, played tag football in the street and basketball on swept dirt with a goal nailed to a tree, built your own bicycles, built your first skateboard out of a 2x4 and your sisters roller skate (nails only. no screws) swam in lakes, creeks, storm drains, and farm ponds, built treehouses with scarfed lumber from new construction sites, camped out in the back yard and stayed up all night warring with green apples against pals doing the same thing the next street over, watched Saturday morning cartoons and the Vietnam war news on a black and white tv, and watched as older neighborhood boys left to fight in it, went with your father to various junkyards looking for parts to keep the car rolling, had a cool washcloth and fan for air conditioning, ate at McDonalds before 1 million were served, got sex education (of sorts) from smuggled nekkid mags, tried to hang around older boys until they got tired of you and kicked your ass, went to Sunday School but skipped church service hiding behind an RC Cola machine at the seedy motel next door while sipping a cold one bought with offering change, saw the klan burn a giant cross while you hid in the hedges, watched with your buddies from the shadows the older hooligans not sent to war work on their cars and spend their grocery bagging and gas station attendant pay getting drunk at night and wrapping rags around their fists for play at bloody fisticuffs illuminated by barrel fire light...
marked summer youth laying in tall broom straw watching clouds float by and listening to the shrill call of the proverbial blue jay...
Last nights hockey game was a wild one. Double OT made me tired. ð´
I couldn't believe that the Hurricanes came back to tie it; they were essentially sleep-walking skating the first two periods - including an own goal. It looked like they were going to get clobbered. Wild game, indeed.
Tai Chi Walking. Biggest spam scam on the interweb. Next to Tai Chi sitting and Tai Chi sleeping. ð´
Hmm, missed this one online. But I've been working on my Tai Chi walking for many years. Periodically, the instructor at the club will have use walk up and down the hall as our form revision.
