Yesterday found me in LaGrange County, mowing on the Toro. It was not hot – maybe around 70 degrees at times – and I got along pretty well, didn’t run over anything and saw no snakes.
It appears that my mind might have gone into idle and stayed there because that paragraph read like one of those journals people write while lost in the jungle/forest/desert.
On the way back, I detoured up to Sturgis, Michigan where I graduated from high school 50 years ago this month. I was thirsty and craved one of the mango iced-tea drinks they have; I was also dirty and my hair was sticking out under my Dorfman Pacific crushable hat. In short, I was a sight and, had I gone into Wal-Mart, I imagine I would have wound up on the “People of” site.
I got my drink and sat there looking whatever and when old(er) people came in, I would sneak a look to see if I recognized them. I surmised if I didn’t know them, they did not know me.
Fifty years ago, I looked at the people having 50 year reunions and thought “geezers.” Now I am the geezer; how did this happen?