My friend Linda, who I play golf with, told me that about the time she moved here from Pittsburgh her mother went into a nursing facility. Linda had siblings still in PA, so they went ahead with their decades-long plan to move to California when CB retired.
I asked her if she felt guilt about that. She said no, not at all. She said she talks to her mom every week and her world is shrinking. I asked what she meant by that and she said her mother doesn’t think much beyond the four walls she lives in these days, and it doesn’t make a lot of difference [to her] if I’m across the country or across the street.
I pondered that for a long time. Actually I thought it pretty profound. When we’re little tykes our world ends at the front door, and then it expands when we go to school and make friends, and then after school we take on the world. As we get on in years (if we’re lucky) our boundaries shrink again.
Anyway, I thought it interesting, and there was a segue there, but I’ve forgotten what it was. Here’s a couple photos from my “little world” this week.
A bunch of us bailed out after nine holes Wednesday. It was 99 degrees and 70% humidity out there. Not fun at all—and potentially dangerous. If I was playing brilliantly I might have considered it, but my game is less than stellar lately (understatement).
I was sitting in the AC reading my book for book club next week—we are reading Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons—when I heard what sounded like the house falling apart. I opened the shades and a big storm had blown in, obliterating everything. The flags we had put out for Labor Day were blowing down the street. The big trash barrels lay on their sides, their contents heading west. It was lucky I was home to close the umbrellas or they would have flown to who knows where.
This poor young tree would have snapped off if it weren’t for the posts holding it up.
Well, I guess that’s it for my little world. All is well in Smallville.