Leap Day

My love is new today;
It springs and bolts
Like a new born foal.
My lover's face, it shines
With the sun's warm light
On a tender Spring day.

This day is different,
As sweet as ripe Summer fruit,
For it comes only once
Every four years.
So this day is not leaping
Past the present view
As quickly as we might suppose.

No, this sunny false-Spring morning
Is a special, gift of a day,
An offering of small compensation
For the ordinary passing of days,
A bright-colored package
From which our love may grow anew.

The one day of the year you don't have to worry about as much as every other day in the year

Friday has arrived and the end of the month to boot. Today is Leap Day. My parents had a neighbor who was born on Leap Day. He had a birthday every four years. I don't know how old he was when he passed away several years ago. You just take the number of years and divide by four.

The Writer's Almanac for today had an explanation of how we got the calendar we use today. It was quite complicated for an English major. The entry had a poem by W. H. Auden about the springing of love and the passing of years. If that poem was written on Leap Day, then Auden had a little less to worry about. He could consider the love of the young lovers, multiply it by the number of years passing them by, then divide by four. Surely their love could last that long.

The entry in the Writer's Almanac was interesting because of the measures which have been taken over the years to correct the manner in which we measure time, based on the changes of the moon and the stars. Apparently, every so often some monk, contemplating the stars and the moon would discover that we were losing days and post his findings to the pope. How these monks discovered this, I don't have a clue.

There again, Julius Caeser borrowed the Egyptian calendar and named one of the months after himself: July. Not to be outdone, Augustus Caesar decided to rename one of the months after himself: August. To ensure that he got equal billing, he borrowed a day from February and stuck it on to August. So now July and August both have thirty one days.

Initially, the calendar tinkerers were more concerned with making sure that the farmers knew when to plant and harvest. The farmers, being superstitious, wanted to know when would be the optimal time to plant and reap. The tinkerers developed calenders so we would know when everything was supposed to happen.

Apparently, some scientist, astronomer or monk discovered in the 1770's that we had too many days in the calendar and needed to adjust the calendar. So one year, they just took ten days out of October. You went to the bed on the fourth and woke up on the fifteenth. This made the bankers mad because they didn't know how much to charge for interest on their notes. Ultimately, they adjusted the calender to the present day calendar. Now we are so accurate that we don't miss days for thousands of years. And the bankers get all their interest. Thank God.

Its nice to know that when I am melting in the Summer heat of July or August, I can thank some Italian demi-god for the extra day of heat. Lets all go eat some pasta and drink an ice cream soda to Julius and Augustus.

Tomorrow will be March, unlike last year when today would be March. March is supposed to involve lions and lambs. Around here that means that just when the flowers start pushing their heads up, the front runs through and covers them with ice or snow or both. Dangerous month.

This weekend is supposed to be warmer and sunny. Kate is coming home tomorrow for Spring Break. Sunday we may go to Callaway. Hope it doesn't start raining for the fun of it.

More nostalgia

Since I have now dipped into the world of childhood cuteness, I have to dive a little deeper. When we lived in Indianapolis, my dad drove a Hillman. A Hillman, for those of you who don't know, was an English car which is no longer manufactured. My dad's car was a tiny little miniature panel truck. The car had a heater for the Winter and vents on the sides of the windows for the summer. I am sure if we had had that car when we lived in Alabama or Georgia, it would have been a good vehicle in which to fry eggs down South.

The car had no radio, so my dad alleviated that by buying a transistor radio (one of those old models with the gray leather case), which he would keep in the car for entertainment. I remember driving around with my dad and listening to some Indianapolis radio station which played folk music. We would drive around singing "If I had a hammer" and other songs along with the singers on the transistor radio. I thought of that because there was a program on Pete Seeger on television last night.

A little bit later, the music of the Beatles came to America and everything was John, Paul, George and Ringo. Its no wonder that when my grandfather's English Setter, Annie, had puppies we named them: John, Paul, George, Peter and Mary. I guess there weren't enough male puppies to have a Ringo.

When I was little, there was an apple orchard in Indianapolis which was owned by the Lilly Company. In the Fall, we would drive to the orchard and buy apple cider and apples. I can still remember that sweet apple cider. It really wasn't until we moved to Georgia and could drive up into the mountains to buy fresh apple cider and hot boiled peanuts where we could replicate the freshness and goodness of those apples and the cider.

Oddly, when I moved to Griffin, I met a young woman who had moved to Griffin with her husband from Winder. It turned out that her father had had a Hillman when she was a little girl. So there were at least two American families with Hillmans back in the 60's.

There have been several cars that my family owned which I would love to have access to these days. The first was my dad's Hillman. The second was the little Renault we owned briefly. We didn't know how to pronouce Renault, so we pronounced it Ri nault', instead of Re No'. That Renault had quite a history in my family.

My great-aunt Ada lived down in Punta Gorda, Florida. She had a little Renault which she probably drove maybe once a week. She got to the age where she really shouldn't have been driving any more and asked my dad if he wanted the car. The car, as I remember it, had about 15000 miles on it. I also remember that it had a loose parking brake which would release at a moment's notice. I remember that specifically because one time someone came to visit and parked right behind the Renault. The parking brake disengaged and the car rolled back into the car behind it. Fortunately, there wasn't much damage.

At any rate, my dad agreed to take the car back to Georgia, and drove it all the way from Punta Gorda, Florida. When I was in college, I drove it around one summer on my summer job. My first summer job that particular Summer was working for the Benevolent Order of Police in Dekalb County, collecting donations. I was paid a paltry amount per donation and they sent me all over the city. If I hadn't had that Renault, I would have blown all the money I was paid on gas. As it was, I think I broke even. I worked there one day and found another job soon thereafter.

Later, when I went back to school, Frank inherited the Renault. Driving that little French car, Frank and his friends referred to it as the 'Spinault'. Unfortunately, Frank had bad luck with the car. One time, during an ice storm, he parked the car on a hill and the car slid down into a fence, doing some minor damage to the body. Next, Frank slid on the ice, I think, or maybe the parking disengaged again and hit something else. By the second or third incident, the car was missing several important parts, and my dad was not in the mood to replace them.

The time for vehicle inspections was coming upon us and my dad sold the car to one of Frank's friends. This friend took the car into one of the nearby woods and drove the car around on dirt trails, slamming it into trees, etc. Ultimately, the friend sold the car to one of the coaches at Dunwoody, who also owned a Renault. The coach was going to use the car for parts.

You would have thought that that would be the end of the Renault. But no. When I graduated from Dunwoody, some of my classmates picked up all of the 'for sale' signs around Dunwoody and placed them in front of the school before graduation, as a prank. A tradition was created and every year, right before graduation, some of the seniors executed a class prank at DHS. My favorite prank was the year when someone borrowed a Southern Bell cherry-picker and covered the flagpole in front of the high school with car tires. The custodians couldn't figure out a good way to remove them, so they cut them into pieces to remove all the tires.

Dunwoody High School is shaped like a figure eight. There are two courtyards in the school which were never used when I was there. As a matter of fact, the school was built in phases and the second courtyard wasn't even there when I graduated. That courtyard was only completed a couple of years later after the school was finished.

At any rate, one Summer, when graduation was looming, the custodians came into the school early to find the remains of the Renault, all beaten and banged up, parked proudly in the middle of one of the courtyards. The administration and the custodial staff looked around the school and couldn't find any indication of how the car got there. There was no evidence of anything.

On top of that, they couldn't figure out how to get it out. So they took acetylene torches and cut it into manageable pieces for removal. Apparently, the custodians at Dunwoody like to cut things up. I know the first time the custodial staff ever took their cutting tools to something was when the science teachers had ordered meter sticks for the classrooms. When the meter sticks were delivered, the custodians were told to remove them from their boxes and place them in the classrooms. When the custodians inspected the meter sticks, they visually noticed that the sticks were too long. So they took a yard stick out and measured. Sure enough, they were too long. So the custodians took a saw to the meter sticks and corrected the 'error.'

Those crazy cutting custodians.

The only other car I would love to have back was my old red Plymouth Sports Fury convertible. Man, that was the epitome of American cool. Big and long. White interior. Perfect for driving around in the Spring and Summer. I do remember one memorable trip in the convertible in the Winter time.

One Tuesday word got out at W&L that there was a mixer that night at Sweet Briar. Not having anything better to do, my roommates and myself all piled into the convertible (top up, of course) and headed east toward Sweet Briar. Unfortunately, there was a serious snow storm hitting the Blue Ridge that evening. As we drove toward Sweet Briar we had to stop several times and allow the Virginia Department of Transportation to remove fallen trees off the road. At one time, I lost control of the car on the ice and slid off the road. Fortunately, no damage. Lesser young men might have just turned back. But not us. Two hours later, we arrived at the security gate for Sweet Briar College.

Oddly, the lights were out in the security post when we arrived and the security guard shone a flash light into our car. He quickly informed us that the power was out all over campus. We asked if the mixer was still going on. He said he thought so. So, undaunted, we headed into the darkened campus of Sweet Briar College for Women. Driving around in the dark, we finally found the mixer, and went inside. A lot of girls were in there. Very few guys. A radio was blasting music at one end of the room. A lot of flashlights were being used by the girls. Of course, we had to depend on the kindness of the girls for light. As is always the case.

By the time the mixer was over, the radio stations were saying that the roads around Lynchburg and up in the mountains were closed until morning. What were we to do? Fortunately, one of my roommates had a cousin who attended Sweet Briar. Thankfully, her roommate was off campus, and she could stay in another room. We all piled into her room and she slept with her friend.

Early the next morning we trudged sleepily over to the parking lot, hopped in the Plymouth and drove back to Lexington in the gray light of dawn. The roads were slick, but passable. Later, my dad said I had fulfilled one of his major fantasies that night. My elderly cousin, who had attended Sweet Briar, opined that boys weren't allowed to sleep on campus when she was there. I'm not sure we were either.

Frank got that car after I graduated from W&L. Dad paid our cousin Bill to perform some restorative body work on the car and it looked sweet. Just like brand new. Unfortunately, the owners of the apartment complex in which we lived at Georgia was doing some work on the apartments. One day, one of the small forklifts they were using rolled down and smashed into the side of the car. By the time Frank graduated, I think Dad decided that the convertible had been way too much work to keep. I wonder where it is now.

Anyway, those are a few more tales from the old days.

The old days and getting older

Today is one of those days that looks real good from inside the house. The wind is up. The temperature is down. I think I should have worn a hat. I have had that thought at least twice today.

It appears that this year has been predominately a cold Winter for most of the U.S. That is "good" for a year when gas prices are up. When I was little, we lived in Indianapolis. In the Winter time, the gas companies would come and deliver heating oil to the houses. We had a little spigot on the side of the house. I don't ever remember being at home and watching the delivery of the heating oil, although I am sure I was there for the deliveries. Its just not a memory I have stuck in my brain.
I do know that little brother Frank and his next door buddy put dirt clods down the oil line one time. I don't remember it specifically, but my parents do. I guess they had to clean out the oil line.

I remember sledding down some of the hills on the street upon which we lived. I vaguely remember my friend Eddie Hague pulling me on the sled up the hill. I don't know why he was pulling me, other than the fact that he was much bigger than I was at the time. I remember playing with Janice Costin down the street, and going to her birthday party one year. My mother has reminded me that I hid from the other birthday guests. I was pretty shy back then. Janice had a 'paw-paw' tree in her back yard.

I remember getting into a "debate" with some of my friends, as to who was the better president. Some of my friends liked Eisenhower. My friends and I like Kennedy. We threw mud at the side of a culvert to the yells of "I like Eisenhower!" "I like Kennedy!" Indiana has always been a place where both parties were equally strong. Being the son of former Southern Democrats, and part Irish to boot, it wasn't hard to figure why I liked JFK.

We had a beagle when we moved to the house on the north side of town. He was run over by a car and my dad replaced him with another beagle named Jinx. Later my dad tried to breed beagles and bought a female we named Roxie. Whenever Roxie got in heat, she would hide under the car in the garage. Jinx would put his head on the concrete floor and bay at Roxie. Roxie would have nothing to do with Jinx during that time frame. Poor Jinx. Jinx later ran away from the farm in Tennessee, when we were moving to Huntsville, Alabama and had no fence in the backyard for Jinx.

Jinx was a good dog. He came back to the farmhouse after he had run away. He stayed for a couple of weeks and then disappeared again. I guess the food was better wherever he had wandered off to. I swear I remember seeing a young beagle coming to the farmhouse later, like one of Jinx's puppies from a second marriage. Good for Jinx.

In Indianapolis we had an albino cat, named Holly. Later, another albino cat came around and we adopted her too, named Bones. Later, much to our surprise, Bones had kittens. They were all calico. I later found out that albinism runs in calico cats. The big surprise was that Bones was with kittens. She was so skinny.

When I was little, and living in Indianapolis, I used to wait for the milkman and see if he would deliver chocolate milk. I remember waking up early in the morning and sitting out on the front porch, covered with the welcome mat from the cold, waiting to see if the milkman had chocolate milk. I don't remember him making such a delivery. But I loved chocolate milk. I also realize that I have aged myself by talking about the delivery of milk. That was about the last food item I can remember that was delivered door to door.

When we moved to Huntsville, everything seemed different. First of all, the whole space industry was amazing, and we were right in the middle of it. When the Mercury Seven and Gemini astronauts were circling around the globe, the scientists at Redstone Arsenal were building and testing the rockets which would launch us to the moon. I remember that they would test the Saturn V booster and the glass in the windows would shake from the power of the rockets. We didn't live in Huntsville long, moving to Dunwoody in 1965 (I think). Maybe 1966.

In Dunwoody we lived way out from Atlanta and Decatur. Right on the edge of development. There was a little country store down the road from Dunwoody Elementary where we would sometimes stop before we walked home. Dunwoody just grew up around us and became rather hoity toity as it went. We went from station wagons and little league football to foreign cars and country clubs. Its hard to imagine a herd of little kids stopping at a country store, buying cokes and candy and walking home from school. I don't think kids do that much walking these days.

Boy, do I sound old.

Gray Day

It is truly a gray day. I put on a gray sweater, which matches the mood and the weather. I don't know why I am stuck on the weather today. Perhaps it is the mood in which I have been placed.

I need to drive to Thomaston and Zebulon and would like to drive over to PTC before the end of the day. I am supposed to have someone coming to meet with me this morning. I also need to put cash in Kate's account before the end of the day. I will try to do that at lunch time.

I feel like my world is getting back in order, slowly. It would be nice if the real estate started picking up a bit.

I still think we are in a recession, no matter what the economists say. I know that the real estate is slower these days because the banks and lenders are requiring more from the borrowers. I have had several borrowers try to get ready for loans and then just disappear. I know a lot of borrowers have been turned down. I think the lenders are being more careful.

Which is fine. But they will have to loosen up a bit before the economy rebounds. I know a lot of lenders were churning the waters, making loans that shouldn't have been made. A lot of those lenders were looking for the fee income on those loans, and not worrying about the ultimate consequences. Now, a lot of those mortgage brokers are out of business.

I don't know why I am going on about this. Everything will get better sooner or later.

Thank you, Pollyanna.

Rainy Tuesday

I woke up this morning around quarter till five. I turned on the television and watched the news for awhile. I went downstairs and cleaned up the mess from the dog this morning. I fixed my breakfast and ate in front of the television. I was still tired and went back to bed. I woke up around quarter till eight and took a shower, dressed and headed out the door. I got to the office around quarter after.

I have been taking calls and trying to handle files this morning, waiting for Patti. She came in around quarter till ten. Is everything today set for quarter till something?

It has been raining since around five this morning. That may account for my sleepiness. It is supposed to rain all day, off and on. That would be nice. It will get colder later and go down into the twenties tonight.

Monday, February 25, 2008

This past weekend was pretty much of a blow off. Cindy didn't feel like leaving the house and other than a few hours at the office on Sunday, I stayed around the house and washed clothes, prepared meals, vacuumed the floors and shopped for groceries. Tex did his best to get in my way by using the mud room as his own private latrine. Other than a lot of good movies on the movie channels, it was rather boring.

I had wanted to go to a Columbus hockey game, but didn't really have someone to go with me. The weather was very cold and windy on Saturday and it rained briefly on Sunday while I was trying to grill hamburgers and hot dogs.

The weather wasn't really prohibitive, but Cindy didn't feel up to leaving the house and is concerned about catching something from the flu-sufferers out in the open.

This morning, I dropped Cindy off at Griffin Tech, and drove up to Stockbridge for a closing. The borrower had arranged to meet me at the Kroger branch of Bank of America. The branch didn't open until 10:00. Neither the borrower nor I knew what the other looked like, so we were forced to wait until someone from BOA opened up and put us together. The borrower was quite confused, but we completed the closing after some time of initial confusion.

I've had quite a few people come to have me represent them in criminal court recently. I even had someone who has charges pending in the Superior Court o Gwinnett County in Lawrenceville. That should be interesting.

After my closing today, I went into the store and found a fruit drink. Then I tried to find a cheap muffin, but nothing was really cheap. I put $1.00 on a shamrock for MDA and left Stockbridge behind me. I will have to pick Cindy up at Griffin Tech and take her home in a few minutes and then drive down to Thomaston and Zebulon on errands. I would like to drive to PTC and pick up my contact lenses, but don't think that will happen. I would really like to eat a bison burger and drink an Anchor Steam at Ted's, but also don't think that will happen.

Well, that is enough for the middle of a Monday afternoon.