A preview of June

Okay, I'm cheating. This one is a slightly rewickered one I wrote a couple of seasons ago that I ran across this morning. If you think it's too early for it, don't read it until it really gets hot next month.

I got to thinking about places I’ve been. Now, I’ve never been much of a tourist, and I’ve traveled way too much at times in my early years. But the two decades I spent in uniform were for the most part enjoyable. I got to spend 3 years in Alaska and 3 more in Nothern Italy. Both were places a ragged, barefoot boy from southern Mississippi would never have visited, let alone lived for years, were it not for the Army. And they are really the only two places that I can think of that I would willingly leave home to visit again. But not now. I’m having way too much fun on Crooked Hill Road. My fun meter is all the way to the right and holding steady.
That ticklish, crawly feeling just to the right of my spine turns out to be a bead of sweat running down my back. It’s not perspiration, it’s sweat. I have a hoe in my hands, a small section of clean row behind me, and an enormous expanse of grass and weeds in front. I’m all decked out for the morning, though – my shoes are back at the beginning of the row, my shirt is tossed on them, and my shorts are rolled up to the decency level. I am fully aware that I’m 57 years old, and some may say I’m pretty ludicrous standing out there looking for all the world like a teenager in swimming trunks at poolside. That’s okay with me. I figure I’m old enough to be as ridiculous and outrageous as I want to be. And anybody that doesn’t want to see that sight shouldn’t look. I’m a self-actualized man.
Yes, I know that the sun can give me skin cancer. Yes, I hear all the time about how much of that sun-block stuff I should smear on my shoulders, etc. And yes, I consistently ignore all of that. The way I see it, sweating is one of the most healthful of occupations. It cleanses the body and rinses out all of the nasties that collect in there over time. One of these days I’m going to go out in the woods and build a Navaho sweat lodge and start heating rocks. I’ll invite all of you over, and I’ll guarantee that afterwards you’ll feel better than you have in too long. But for me and for now I don’t need even that artifice. All I have to do is grab a hoe and trudge out into 90-something degrees. It’s a great feeling.
I also hear that it’s childish to be out there working on my tan. Okay, again. Stop to think for a minute. You spend half your life with people older than you telling you to act like them (old), or else telling you to act your age (and when you are a kid, and you do act your age they want you to act like them again – old). I’m done with all that. I still do childish things every day, and I’m only going to act my age when two things happen. One is when I feel like it, and the other is when I figure out just how people my age are supposed to act, because from what I’ve seen most of them could use a good dose of happiness and a change of attitude. There aren’t too many of them I choose to emulate. In fact, anyone who is in the mood for a change of attitude should go buy themselves a hoe – mine is not for hire – and get out in the sun for a while with as little clothing as decency permits. At the end of the day or at the end of the stamina you’ll feel different. Either you’ll know that this is not the life for you or you’ll know that you’re missing something that you want more of. I know which side of that particular coin I’m on. It just took me too many years to figure it out.
I’d love to ramble on, but I hear a hoe handle calling my name, and the sun is already burning hot. Life is good. I’ve found what makes me happy, and I highly recommend it.