Back in June, I started a blog post that I never finished:
It’s not the number on the scale that’s getting me down; it’s the reappearance of my double chin and my spare tire. It’s the added jiggle in places I’d once made unjiggly. It’s the tightness of the waistbands in my work slacks. It’s the fatigue.
At that point, I weighed ten pounds less than I do now.
Any other day, we would have perused the second-hand shops, the bookstores, and Goodwill — but we were coming to the close of a long day of driving and funeral and entombment (and finally lunch), and a stroll around the Oregon District was not in the cards.
Even though I played with the Litchfield Town Band briefly during the mid-90’s, I was still surprised to witness the pride of this little town in their concert band. All summer, on Friday evenings, the town band assembles in the gazebo to play marches and polkas and other traditional crowd favorites.
When my son and I went to visit my Mom at the end of July, a good number of her friends were looking forward to pulling out some chairs and listening to the music. Having been a music major in a former life, I could tell that it wasn’t exactly professional-sounding, but it wasn’t totally cringey, either. It was enjoyable in that live-music-outside sort of way.
Except to one nine-year-old boy who’d already had a long day. To him, it was “boring,” and he just wanted to go back to Grammy’s house and relax.
Connor and I took a long weekend at the end of July to go visit my mom in Medina County, Ohio. Of course, I had to get a photo of my son in front of the iconic gazebo in Medina Square.
His Dad and I had collaborated to make him a mixtape (yes, an actual cassette tape that he played in an actual Sony Walkman) that included his favorite techno/electronic and video game music, and he listened to it nonstop. Hence the headphones.
I just got the film developed (yes, actual 35mm film) and was struck by how much my son looks like my mother.