There are many many reasons why I am grateful to have my wife in my life. . . and one of them is that without her, our house would probably sink into a swamp or be engulfed by a tropical rain forest. I am such a ‘live and let live’ kind of guy when it comes to the outdoors, and it is Kathy who has done 90% of the planning and weeding and cleaning up of the green things growing around our house. And today she worked all day long getting things out there tidied up in time for W****r, which of course is not that far off. The hardest part for her was disposing of these still rather pretty geraniums because it was hard to know what coming weekends will bring and if there would be a similarly perfect opportunity to get this stuff done. So out they came, and with it a wistful sense that this somehow marked the undeniable end of another summer, when somehow we didn’t manage to eat a single meal out on our patio (at least that I can remember) and just didn’t savor enough precious days of laziness. Part of it is that so much of the summer was swallowed up by the excitement of the RTG’s Side by Side by Sondheim. . . and to whatever extent we resent how much of our summer R&R that took away, we have to remember in the same breath how thrilling and satisfying it was to be part of that production – and what a rare treat it was to be working on a production together.
Anyway, the seasons come and go – whether we’re ready for them or not – and I’m just glad that I am married to someone who thinks about things like winterizing the snow blower or sweeping the floor of the patio while I’m writing songs about it.
One of my relatives who has been gone for many many years now is my Uncle Paul – my dad’s brother – who was an Episcopalian priest up in northern Minnesota. He was a brilliant, cerebral man – and was lucky to be married for many years to a woman who kept the lights on and the kids fed while he was busy thinking profound thoughts. That is a bit of an over- simplification but there’s some truth to it. My folks loved to talk about one time when our two families were on vacation together and picnicking someplace- and as usual, Uncle Paul was standing around in a bit of a daze while the other adults were scurrying around, getting the meal together. Finally, with more than a little exasperation, Aunt Marcia turned to her husband and said “how about finding us some wood for the grill?” And Uncle Paul – I kid you not – looked up into the top of the trees with this rather bewildered look on his face, as though completely clueless as to how one gathers wood for a fire.
I tell the story not to be disrespectful of my Uncle Paul – who was an amazing and brilliant man – but rather to say that my cluelessness when it comes to chores in the outdoors is comparable . . . although I am perhaps a step or two ahead of my Uncle in at least being aware of my cluelessness. And I hope that over the last 17 years I have become a bit less clueless. . . although the best person to ask about that is the endlessly patient woman who is still putting up with me after all these years.