First of all, my apologies to all of you with dial up that hate getting e-mails with pictures attached. If you, like I used to do, download the e-mail without the picture, you won’t understand what I’m talking about. I’ve walked by this Saguaro Cactus three times now (actually four if you count today’s out and back walk). The first time I saw it, I thought to myself all the captions you could put on a picture like; “Polluted? What do you mean this land is polluted?” or; “Arizona Postcard Contestant Rejected” or; “I remember everything until the 9th shot of Tequila—I don’t feel so good” and, you know me, I could go on and on. I went out and took a picture and had planned to get a few laughs about it.
Then I got to thinking. I know! Dangerous! What I thought about was that the cactus started out in a very harsh environment, trying to get enough of a foothold to grow. It struggled to find its niche in that particular spot and probably had to defeat several other plants just to survive. The struggles it endured show in the “arms” that broke off, or twisted the wrong way, or the holes that the birds pecked in its skin. And it still is there, hanging around until the land is bulldozed down for another development. It is what it is, and what we see on the outside, and make jokes about, don’t begin to praise the strength and perseverance it took to make it this far.
So now is the time I’m supposed to compare that cactus to an old broken down man (me, at the moment, with the knee thing going on) and say something about how we shouldn’t judge something by what we see. Some of us will never look like the guys on the cover of Men’s Health, so maybe we shouldn’t be ashamed of what we look like. What we think are defects and malformations may be scars from many courageous battles that were fought and won. But that would make me sound too preachy and it’s way too deep for my intellect. So let’s just say it’s a nice picture and leave it for you to interpret for yourself.
In my last e-mail, I failed to mention that Rocky took me to a New Orleans Saints game, my first regular season professional football game. They only had one loss at the time, ended up losing that game, and the next. But it was a fun game to watch and we had a good time. The only downside was the guys sitting behind us. There always seems to be someone in the stands that everyone hates, and these guys were, by far, at the head of that list. To say they were foul mouthed would be an understatement. Every swear word you could possibly think of, and some that I didn’t even know, came spewing out of their mouths non-stop. They were extremely derogatory toward women, and described them in every degrading way you could imagine. The plus side was that the game lasted so long they began to sober up (yes, drunk to the point of losing the power of speech) and the early hangovers were setting in. We had fun afterward touring the location of Rocky and Nina’s rehearsal dinner and riding around in the French Quarter chauffered by Nina’s mother.
We think we’ve decided to head for Michigan shortly after the race on the 17th. We’ll probably leave when the weather looks like we can make the three day drive without heading into storms. We plan to get back no later than the 24th so I can have a day to prepare for my board meeting on the 26th. If the travel weather looks bad, I can fly back and Jean can drive back when it clears up. At 100 miles a day, she should make it by Super Bowl Sunday…who’s having the party?
Just (Waiting Around For The Trilanders To Get Here) Jack