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Authors: Mike O'Mary
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his girlfriend looked back over her shoulder and smiled at me. “Bye, honey,” she said. Then she turned to Billy Dee Williams and whispered, “You should get you some of that Clubman stuff.”
Billy Dee turned to his girlfriend. “How many letters in ‘Clubman,’ Baby?” he asked.
“Seven,” she said.
“That’s right, Baby,” said Billy Dee. “Seven.” He smiled at her and she smiled back, and as they walked back in to the Scrabble tournament, I saw the grand pattern of my life clearly again and knew that it was time to break out of that pattern and make a change for the better.
Dog Days
We are in the dog days of winter. I can tell by watching my dog.
Normally when I let my dog in the house, she stops just inside the door so I can wipe her feet. Last week, when it was bitterly cold outside, I opened the door and Kallie darted in, ran straight to the kitchen, grabbed my cheeseburger off my plate, and took off running.
In the past, Kallie has chewed up pillows, eyeglasses, computer diskettes, and numerous other items—but it usually happens when she has been home alone all day. She doesn’t normally act like that when I’m around.
I told a coworker about my stupid dog, and my coworker told me that her dog had been acting weird, too. One night, while she was watching the news, her dog started growling at Dan Rather. Then, when she tried to pull the dog away from the TV, the dog snapped at her.
My guess is that our dogs are suffering from cabin fever. And if our dogs are suffering, we probably are, too. Tempers are short, we are irritable, and we do irrational things. Maybe we snap at people when we are normally patient and polite. Or we gnash our teeth and gnaw on our pillows when we hear politicians talk about the budget. And at some point every winter, we inevitably cross the line: we march into the living room while everybody else is watching TV, pick up the remote control, and start flipping through channels like madmen.
Yes, things are getting bad. But don’t worry. Spring is just around the corner—just another severe winter storm or two away. So until then, hang in there. And in the meantime, if you feel like grabbing somebody’s cheeseburger, make sure you can outrun them.
Lucky Duck
The university in my hometown has a large pond on its grounds. Locally, it’s referred to as “The Lagoon.” As soon as the weather gets warm in the spring, hundreds of ducks fly in to make the pond their temporary home, and people from all over town bring their children to see the baby ducklings.
The ducks know a good thing when they see one, and they cruise the pond, accepting a slice of bread here, leftover French fries there. The only thing that spoils this otherwise serene setting is that some of the ducks fight with each other over food or chase kids around looking for a handout. Meanwhile, the smaller, more timid ducks hang back and go hungry. Some people throw breadcrumbs into the midst of the ducks and let nature take its course. Others seem to resent the aggressive ducks. They ignore them and throw crumbs to the timid ducks instead.
The best time at the lagoon comes earlier in the year, before the warm weather and ducks arrive. In winter, people go to the lagoon to ice skate. Even on a busy evening you can find a remote spot and skate in solitude. If you stop skating for a moment, you can hear the fragile sound of ice creaking beneath your feet. And if the night is clear, you can look up and see a sky full of stars creaking their way across the universe.
Best of all, there are no pesky ducks around.
I go to the lagoon in the winter when I want to be alone. On a clear winter night in a peaceful Midwestern town, it’s a nice place to be.
* * *
I went to the lagoon on the night I heard about Joey Russo. The lagoon is a long way from Germantown, the blue-collar neighborhood of shotgun houses in Louisville where Joey and I grew up. In winter, kids were more likely to be
Billy Dee turned to his girlfriend. “How many letters in ‘Clubman,’ Baby?” he asked.
“Seven,” she said.
“That’s right, Baby,” said Billy Dee. “Seven.” He smiled at her and she smiled back, and as they walked back in to the Scrabble tournament, I saw the grand pattern of my life clearly again and knew that it was time to break out of that pattern and make a change for the better.
Dog Days
We are in the dog days of winter. I can tell by watching my dog.
Normally when I let my dog in the house, she stops just inside the door so I can wipe her feet. Last week, when it was bitterly cold outside, I opened the door and Kallie darted in, ran straight to the kitchen, grabbed my cheeseburger off my plate, and took off running.
In the past, Kallie has chewed up pillows, eyeglasses, computer diskettes, and numerous other items—but it usually happens when she has been home alone all day. She doesn’t normally act like that when I’m around.
I told a coworker about my stupid dog, and my coworker told me that her dog had been acting weird, too. One night, while she was watching the news, her dog started growling at Dan Rather. Then, when she tried to pull the dog away from the TV, the dog snapped at her.
My guess is that our dogs are suffering from cabin fever. And if our dogs are suffering, we probably are, too. Tempers are short, we are irritable, and we do irrational things. Maybe we snap at people when we are normally patient and polite. Or we gnash our teeth and gnaw on our pillows when we hear politicians talk about the budget. And at some point every winter, we inevitably cross the line: we march into the living room while everybody else is watching TV, pick up the remote control, and start flipping through channels like madmen.
Yes, things are getting bad. But don’t worry. Spring is just around the corner—just another severe winter storm or two away. So until then, hang in there. And in the meantime, if you feel like grabbing somebody’s cheeseburger, make sure you can outrun them.
Lucky Duck
The university in my hometown has a large pond on its grounds. Locally, it’s referred to as “The Lagoon.” As soon as the weather gets warm in the spring, hundreds of ducks fly in to make the pond their temporary home, and people from all over town bring their children to see the baby ducklings.
The ducks know a good thing when they see one, and they cruise the pond, accepting a slice of bread here, leftover French fries there. The only thing that spoils this otherwise serene setting is that some of the ducks fight with each other over food or chase kids around looking for a handout. Meanwhile, the smaller, more timid ducks hang back and go hungry. Some people throw breadcrumbs into the midst of the ducks and let nature take its course. Others seem to resent the aggressive ducks. They ignore them and throw crumbs to the timid ducks instead.
The best time at the lagoon comes earlier in the year, before the warm weather and ducks arrive. In winter, people go to the lagoon to ice skate. Even on a busy evening you can find a remote spot and skate in solitude. If you stop skating for a moment, you can hear the fragile sound of ice creaking beneath your feet. And if the night is clear, you can look up and see a sky full of stars creaking their way across the universe.
Best of all, there are no pesky ducks around.
I go to the lagoon in the winter when I want to be alone. On a clear winter night in a peaceful Midwestern town, it’s a nice place to be.
* * *
I went to the lagoon on the night I heard about Joey Russo. The lagoon is a long way from Germantown, the blue-collar neighborhood of shotgun houses in Louisville where Joey and I grew up. In winter, kids were more likely to be
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