DRAW LINES, BUT KEEP IT QUIET

If you want to set a border, first draw lines.

Could be a property line, could be a county line, or state line.

Why not start with some internal work first?

Internal work? What’s that?

Call it a promise, a pledge, a feeling, but conjure up something you’d like to do, but not right now.

Like what? How about drinking cold beer on a 97° hot day?

In a miracle of modern communications I reset my plans for the day in five minutes.

I’d planned on dad duty for a few hours at mid-day and mixing in the best times of all, Granddad time.

It’s something I look forward to, but plans change and I had a few hours on the lam.

With my dog. Hmmm. Dog park? Dog bath?

By then it would be later in the day, too late to qualify as day drinking.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

But I was all excited for a baby day, not a doggy day.

New plan: buy dog shampoo, go into Safeway for a few chicken taquitos, dog park, then wash.

But that didn’t feel quite right, so I called one of my girls on the off chance she was around, and she was.

In fact she was heading for the same Safeway I was set to go in.

Meet me at the tap house and we’ll check their menu, I said, which means join me for lunch.

Instead of me, me, me, I chose we, we, we.

I missed one baby and caught up with another almost by accident.

It was Granddad heaven at the tap house.

And worthy of a beer if I didn’t draw lines.

What line? The early beer on Thursday line; the beer in a place between two Over-55 communities line; the beer before the workout line.

 

Why Draw Lines Blogger?

What says beer more than chips and salsa, quesadillas, and a reuben panini?

And a dog, a toddler, and her mom?

At a tap house?

I used my super powers to focus on time spent together while watching customers inside to write about.

Older people, both men and women, acting like regulars with their early beer, which probably led to an early dinner and an early bedtime?

It would for me, it has for me, just not today.

There I was sitting as a virtuous sixty-nine year old drawing lines all over the place in my mind while toddler drew lines in chalk on the cement.

Which led to drawing diamonds, octagons, hands, and feet.

I told toddler she could draw an outline of her mom if mom laid down on the cement between outdoor tables.

Momma said no.

Momma: Do you want to get a beer?

Me: I do, but not before I lift.

Momma: Beer before lift?

Me: Beer during lift. Lol. I’m going to wait, but go ahead.

Momma: Probably not.

Me: You know what the customer in there remind me of? A Hopper painting.

Momma: Which one? Nighthawks?

 

Me: Take your pick. It just feels sad to see old people day drinking with nothing to live for.

Momma: Um hmm.

Me: You know, a beer is sounding better and better. What time is it? Man, what a hot day.

Momma: You’re not going to blame me for crossing lines. Will the garage be cool enough for lifting?

Me: It’s an oven, one step away from the sauna. Thank you for the reminder.

Momma: Next time let’s find a place that allows dogs and won’t depress you.

Me: Depressed? Naw. How many people in there will go home and do a 5 X 5? I’ll hit that after I stop for 24 oz cans of Stella, Heinie, and Pacifico. They inspire me.

Momma: The beer?

Me: That and the people.

Momma: We’ll keep you honest and on track.

 

Drifting Away Like Water

Old, old men? How old? Sixty?

I’ve seen beautiful things drift away all my life.

I grew up on a bay; I know the tides.

The key for people who see beautiful things drift away is to write about it, document it.

Maybe someone who isn’t an Irish poet will read your take on drift and start looking at life differently.

Instead of an old boozer staring out at another bleary sunset and waking up to a brain fogged hangover for the ninth year in a row, consider this:

No one is young, too young to understand time.

Time to eat, to change; time to crawl, to walk; time to read and write; time to drive and explore.

I still don’t quite get it when I see people who’ve clearly given up, lost their way, retired to oblivion as if pounding a lifetime of liquor wasn’t oblivion enough.

My girls and I spent two hours fiddling around watching squirrels and birds and ants through the eyes of a toddler.

Two hours with virtue enough to draw lines and stick to them.

I swung by the gas station, sweated it out on the squat rack, and cracked a cold one.

Awwwwwwwww.

I told my wife about my day so far.

I’d told my kid not to tell my wife I didn’t meet him.

Who can keep a secret?

You don’t come here for advice, but here it is:

All things beautiful don’t drift away like water if you have the discipline to see changing beauty.

It starts when you draw lines and stick to them while knowing it won’t be the end of the world if things change.

That’s the ‘keep quiet’ part.

Also, things change all the time.

Yesterday everything changed for the better and it was the kind of beautiful that never fades.

Young or old, Buddy Holly gets it right.

 

I’m going to tell you how it’s going to be
You’re gonna give your love to me
I’m gonna love you night and day
Well love is love and not fade away
Well love is love and not fade away

 

Do you feel yourself slipping away?

Are you unrecognizable to yourself?

I won’t tell you what to do, but you need to dial it up.

Find something to care about; do something that makes a difference. Play a guitar, sing a song.

If you have any questions, find me and my crew day drinking at a local tap house with an early bird special before open mic starts.

Love that doesn’t fade away starts with you.