The Most Important Things...

The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them--words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to where your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller, but for want of an understanding ear.

~Stephen King~


Front Porch Sittin'


It's a beautiful evening here tonight... good front porch sittin' type evening. I was doing just that a little bit ago after I finished painting the downstairs bedroom. The sun was just going down and I thought I would sit out there instead of watching the conclusion of "Remember The Titans" on ABC Family. I got myself a glass of water and pulled a comfortable chair out there and just sat.

The sky was growing darker by the minute, clouds turning from white to pink and orange to dark blue, now just shadows with an almost purple sky peeking through here and there. Because of the cloud cover, I couldn't really see too many stars tonight. The moon is waxing at about half but I couldn't really see where it was, again because of the clouds. The humidity is up just a little, but not enough to make the air even slightly uncomfortable.

The crickets were chirping from all directions. A dog somewhere far off was barking at nothing in particular, it sounded like. Occasionally I could hear one the cows from across the street mooing very low and soft, as if to let the other cows know that she was turning in for the night. My dog Baxter was laying on the porch next to me and the two cats Gordon and Frankie were content to park themselves on the table next to my chair. Gordon needed the top of his head rubbed and scratched every few minutes.

A few cars went by our house, people on their way home from work or going to the little store just down our road I guess. I didn't get the feeling that any of the occupants of those cars were out for a night on the town. I could be wrong about that, but it's just not likely. Not on a Wednesday night on Highway O in Ava. There's a raccoon that comes up onto the porch late at night and our cats are kind enough to share their cat food with him. I'm not sure how voluntary this act of benevolence truly is, but the cats are still around and I haven't found any dead raccoons as of yet. I tried to be very still and quiet while I was sitting on the porch to see if I could spot ol' dark eyes, but no such luck. Maybe I'll spot him some other night.

I could see the lights on in my next door neighbor’s house across the field that separates us. Fern lives alone, is well into her eighties, still gets on her tractor and mows her lawn. I wonder if she was watching "American Idol" tonight. It surprises me sometimes to find out who watches that show. I start watching the auditions, but lose interest after a few weeks. Sheri's mother watches it with some of her friends. I'm curious if her gatherings are like what I'm planning for my own watching parties when "24" starts up again. Probably not, but it's kind of fun to imagine something like that.

I called Kelly (Sheri's step-mother) this evening from out on the porch to check on her and Sheri's father. Things are going well in Michigan. I didn't talk as long as I would have liked, but she's pretty busy these days and it's an hour later there than here anyway. I tried to call Jessica, but she didn't answer her phone. I tried to call a few other people too, but couldn't get anyone. I hope it's because everyone else was sitting on their front porches too.

I used to sit on our front porch on evenings like this when I was in high school back in Texas. Even then I instinctively understood that I had to remove myself from the frenetic world once in a while and learn to relax enough to enjoy the simplicity and serenity of a cool summer evening. From my front porch in Texas, I could see several transmitter towers a few miles away. They all had a series of red flashing lights that blinked in a seemingly random manner. I would just watch them and it didn't take long for me to memorize the patterns of those flashing lights.

Often, I would be sitting out there after a considerable amount of time in a swimming pool, either in our back yard or over at my friend Rick's house. Man, we put in some serious time in swimming pools when I was in high school. We were mostly in Rick's pool, and that was all right with me because his back yard was always in a state of landscaping and the smell of that bark mulch stuff they use in flower beds combined with the smell of the chlorinated pool water added to the atmosphere of fun-having. To this day those two smells can trigger some pretty powerful memories.

Sitting on the front porch after some time in the pool was a great finish to a great day. There would be a hazy ring around the gas lamp in our front yard, and around the street lights, and even around the moon caused by my time in the swimming pool. That ring signified to me that it had been a pretty good day.

Sometimes I would take a little clock radio out there with me and listen to the hits of the day while I watched those lights. Gordon Lightfoot's "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" or "Muskrat Love" by The Captain and Tennille. I was dating a girl by the name of Debbie and our song was Chicago's "If You Leave Me Now" until we changed it to "Weekend in New England" by Barry Manilow. This was back before rap, before punk and boy bands, and even back before disco. The hardest thing we listened to was Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven."

How could my life as a youth of fourteen or fifteen seem so complicated and frenzied and convoluted at the time, and yet so simple and carefree in retrospect?

Sometimes, one or both of my sisters would come and join me, but usually not. Once in a while, one of my friends would come over and we'd sit out there and talk about girls, or school, or girls, or music, or what time we were meeting after our parents went to sleep so we could swim the ponds on the golf course and collect golf balls... or girls. Around the neighborhood, sounds of other kids playing and laughing could be heard. We would hear someone's mother calling them in for supper from the next street over. The smells of different dinners being cooked were floating by on the breeze, a whiff of meatloaf one second, and then the aroma of spaghetti as the breeze shifted.

There was something special in those kinds of summer nights on the front porch. I couldn't begin to explain what that special something was, but it was here in Ava on this night.

So tonight, I was sitting on our front porch and thinking about days past sitting on other front porches, listening to the beautiful noises of the crickets and dogs and cows as they perform their nightly symphony, wanting to share the moment with Sheri, and wishing that some of my friends or maybe Rebecca or Jessica or Justin could come over so we could talk about... whatever. It wouldn't matter what we talked about. The conversation would be mostly meandering, would probably be pointless, and would no doubt be forgotten in a day or two.

I need more evenings like this... on my front porch. I plan on spending a little more time out there and a little less time in front of the television this summer. If you get a chance, stop on by and sit a spell... I'll even make a fresh pitcher of lemonade.

As for now, I’m going back on the porch and wait for Sheri to get home from work in about a half hour.

Until next time...

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

searching for a rainbow and if the wind ever showed me where to go you'll be waiting at the end and i know i'll see there with that pot of gold....marshall tucker

Lynn said...

I couldn't have said it better... thanks, my friend.

Paul said...

Ahhhh..........YES!!!!!!

Rebecca said...

My dad and I still sit on the front porch during thunderstorms in the summer and it's one of my fondest memories! I'm glad I found your blog, Lynn... and you led me to a lot of people who had left Bon Air.