The Burrow

I spent the afternoon in Little Cuter's backyard.  Their deck chairs are exactly as they should be - waterproof, classy, and comfortable.  Though the pillows are boring, they are fine for now.  Next year, when they are looking sad after 365 days of sunshine, she can replace the covers with something more fun. I don't know why she'd bother, though.  The rest of the yard more than makes up for these plain, brown, wrappers. My girl was never one for gardening.  Then, she became a homeowner.  Now, she barely waits to change her clothes before she and SIR are out in the yard, watering, pruning, tending, cleaning.  I watched the mourning dove poop on the ledge; she came home and wiped it off.  Is this the same human who quailed at the thought of bird droppings on the deck in California? Apparently, paying the mortgage causes a profound change in attitude. If I'd only known that when she was a child, I'd have had her contribute just to get her to love ...

That's the size of the hole in my heart right how. Frank and Jackie, who live next door to G'ma's house on Long Island, went outside the night of Superstorm Sandy and watched the giant pin oak twirling around and around in the wind.  Like a windmill, like a whiligig, like a top, like a big scary living thing that was about to crash onto their kitchen, the tree my parents planted on my brother's first birthday in 1955 was behaving badly. That tree was base in so many games of Hide and Seek and Red Rover and Mother, May I? that it exists on its own, as a character in my memory. Its trunk served as home plate for whiffle ball, and was the goal in the games of Association in which Daddooooo tried to interest us.  Those dark lines outside the ripped away lawn are not gopher tunnels, nor garden soil, nor uneven patches of grass.  They are the roots of the tree, the foundation that held it up for nearly sixty years.  They are gnarly.  I always knew exact...

I've lived in suburbs and cities and had a fine time in both. But there's something about a town that's just a little bit different. I grew up in the Town of Hempstead. That was more a political distinction than a home-town. Oceanside was where I lived, and it was definitely a town. We had our own schools and Memorial Day parade and scout councils and Little League. There was just one public high school, and hardly anybody left it to go to a private one. Football was played on Friday nights, and there were always as many residents as students in the stands. Until I was in middle school, summer nights were spent at Nathan's where each day of the week had its own theme and performers. We heard Josh White, Jr one Friday Folk Night, and square danced every Thursday, and went to the Jazz and Orchestra programs, too. Scampering was encouraged because nobody ever got lost. The whole town was there to be sure you were safe while you were having fun. I never thought much about...