May has sucked. Cold, baby. Cold.
On May 1st, I waxed eloquent about the month of May. She has since spit in my face but I will control my verbal revenge lest I receive another lecture from Keith.
This weekend is a killer though. Memorial Day weekend is meant to be an orgy of sunshine, barbecues, alcohol over indulgence, public nudity and introspection. The summer kickoff.
It is not meant to be rain soaked. And cold.
I got out of work last night at 9:30, having left my sweatshirt in the truck, and shivered my way to the truck. Had to put the sweatshirt on as a cold, misty rain fell on my newly shortened but still magnificent hair.
I was stunned.
I will break form right now, though, and refrain from whining about this nasty long weekend weather.
I actually have two days off this weekend. Not in a row of course, but still, two days away from the asylum are two days away from the asylum.
Gonna dig it. Hunker down a bit, coil my body into a tight spiral between books, coffee, movies, my lovely wife and the cats, and prepare to spring into summer whenever it arrives.
What else can you do?
Yeah, and also think about all the people who have died to give me the opportunity to whine about my life.
Memorial Day always blows my mind in intensity. Knowing that there are millions who have died to allow us the privilege of living, is beyond comprehension.
When I was a kid I was in the high school band; a trumpet player. I took part in a few Memorial Day commemorations held in cemeteries. I went off alone into the cemetery and played taps.
First of all I was nervous as hell I would screw it up. But beyond that, it was an eerie and intense experience.
I'm glad I got a chance to contribute something.
In between shots of tequila and gnawing on Cajun style barbecued ribs, try to reflect a little on what this weekend is really all about.
It won't sober you up, but maybe it will add a little depth to your life.
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