Would it change me?

Saw a Billboard today that implied that I would be more interesting if I had a new, designer purse/outfit bought at the Mall of America. I wondered. Would I really? Probably, not much!

Alas! The Fair is over

Two visits to the Minnesota State Fair this year, and I feel I should have gone at least once more. The paper has been obsessed with the food opportunities there, but I was sated after just three indulgences at my first visit and after just two indulgences at my second. There seem to be hundreds of opportunities, but in order to truly appreciate these, one my age must return again and again. Even ruling out those offerings I wouldn't risk, or have risked in the past with less than satisfactory results, it would take weeks of visits to fully appreciate all the opportunities.

So, today, as I rather half heartedly began taping my entry way and fireplace so that I can complete my painting project, I found myself regretting that I did not get back to visit at least one more time. Oh yes, and there were a number of exhibits and events that I also missed. I guess that's the reason they do this over and over again, year after year, and it continues to break attendance records as the Great Minnesota Get Together. Next year I'm definitely going to visit at least three times, and I'm going to diet all year long in preparation. Ooops! Now I remember. All that dieting has shrunk my appetite. It may take more than three visits next year.

Missing people

I sometimes feel silly about all the little things that pass through my mind each day, and the trivial stuff that I notice and think about. I check Facebook several times a day, and keep up with a lot of little things that make up the days of my friends as well, as if the trivia in my own life weren't enough.

Each time I pass the corner of Dowling and Xerxes, I think about the man who last summer was frequently sitting out on a lawn chair watching life go by, while he smoked his cigarettes. When I returned from my winter home, he was not there. He died in March.

A little further up the street on the corner of 42nd and York, the lawn was always a potential advertisement for Turf Builder. It was diligently cared for by an older man with whom I often exchanged a greeting. In past years he had lawn signs for candidates I wouldn't have voted for, but we didn't discuss politics. He too has died.

Last week at St. Paul's we had memorial services for two parishioners whom I knew casually. This Saturday we will have a service for a third. All of these people were a part of my world and, though I didn't know them well, I will and I do miss them.

Ok, so this is beginning to sound morbid, but it's not meant to be. One of the benefits of aging, I think, is the appreciation I have for all the lives that have touched mine through the years remembered each day in the mundane tasks of life. Each one was significant in some way. While I despair that my mind dwells so much on trivia, I can imagine that not remembering this trivia would be much more tragic. I think I shall continue to appreciate my active mind, as long as I can keep it.

The rich see things differently

Apparently, the rich see economizing on the use of oil resources a bit differently than I do. Recent ad for a new Cadillac SUV, proudly proclaiming that it is a "hybrid", which is now the key word for gas economy - perhaps? They then brag that it gets 20 miles to the gallon in city driving. Whoopee! I think I'll keep my Subaru. It gets 26 miles per gallon in city driving, even though it is not a hybrid.

Improvements

As I continue to patiently endure the incessant beeping of the machinery in front of my house, I read in the paper this morning that Victory Memorial Drive is to be renovated. I'm quite pleased about this.

For the past few years we have endured not only huge, deep and nearly unavoidable potholes along this roadway, but also the view of several temporary street lamps. These unattractive utilities are an eyesore both in the daytime and at night. In the daytime we can view the chipped and rusted yellow poles grounded in ugly bases and at night they are seen as different colored lights. Hardly a sight to elicit pride in our city.

This spring I was mildly amused to observe the effort by some public works forces working on the potholes. This effort consisted, from all appearances, of a crew tying up traffic for a couple hours, while they worked on filling potholes in short segments of the Drive. Their efforts consisted of someone slopping black tar around the edges of the potholes, then all of them standing around and visiting for some time as the traffic worked its way around them. After this restful interlude, they dumped a pile of tar like stuff into the hole and left for the day. In the course of a month, working like this once a week on about a half block at a time, they managed to partially fill some of the holes in a two block segment of the drive. They then disappeared, never to be seen or heard from since. How proud I was to see our tax dollars being carefully conserved by the deliberate pace of this effort.

A parkway renovation on our part of the Drive will be very welcome indeed, even if it prolongs the roaring and beeping of heavy equipment. I do hope it includes road work and the replacement of the temporary lighting.

Good example

StarTribune, July 6, 2009: Columnist Stephen Wilbers on Effective Writing headlined "Keep those modifiers from just hanging there." So What's a dangling modifier anyway?", he asks. Check the Star Tribune, same date, page A3, for example. "The ousted president's plane circled the airport as a mass of supporters gathered, then veered away." Can't you just see that sea of supporters veering away from the circling plane?