I Shot Six Holes in My Freezer (Almost)

Lately, newspaper mentioned cheap airfare
I've got to fly to Saint Somewhere
I'm close to bodily harm
Boat Drinks - Jimmy Buffett

The five families met last night, a contract was issued and it was decided – Winter Must Die!

I’ll probably look back in five or ten years when I’m living near the ocean and come to the realization that it was during the winter of 2014 when my appreciation for snow and cold temperatures “jumped the shark”.

In some aspects, I never saw this transformation coming.  A quarter century of winters past, saw me and my family enjoy countless ski days enjoying the sun and cold crisp air enjoying adventures outdoors in the elements.

Maybe I’m coming to that realization that I’m old.  Not sure what is happening to me, but this winter really has me blue.  It’s weird because for 50 odd years I’ve always enjoyed winter.  Whether it was hittin’ the slopes, road biking on the weekends, ice skating, or taking photographs on early morning strolls around Strawbridge Lake I was always down with winter.  Am I getting like my father-in-law who used to complain about his thin winter skin as he drove to Virginia each January to ride the Amtrak train en route to Florida with all the other local snow birds.

Even Marie has noticed my normally cheery disposition take a bit of a nose dive these past three weeks.  Recently, I’ve been viewing my California, Florida and Mexico photo portfolios on a more frequent basis and if you know me that’s really saying something!  I found myself regularly daydreaming of early morning walks on Sanibel Island or Tulum while stopped at a light or gazing out of the PATCO train window crossing the Delaware River each morning on my daily commute.  When a Beach Boys song would appear on my iPod suddenly I was walking on the beaches of Santa Monica or Carmel.  I have some kinda junkie’s desire to head to the Jersey Shore beaches these past two weekends.  I got it bad, man......

I mean I’m ready to drive south and west until the money and booze run out.

It was Saturday morning and for the fourth time in less than two weeks it was snowing in the Delaware Valley.  Sadly, I put on my hiking boots, winter jacket, ski cap, and gloves and trudged out to my ice cold automobile parked in my snowy driveway.  Armed with my trusty shopping list I was ready to make my last stand against winter. 

My first stop was Shop Rite to purchase the following winter staples; firewood, limes, frozen margarita mix, ice, chips and salsa.  Next stop was the local liquor store for tequila, triple sec and lime juice.   My last stop was Barnes & Noble for Jack Johnson CDs, John MacDonald novels and a travel book on Sint Maarten.   

It’s hard to say whether it was the multiple margaritas, roaring fire, soothing island music or the detective novels set in Florida, but suddenly and without notice I was no longer trapped in the coldest most frigid northeast part of the United States. 

I finally surfaced after hours in this suspended reality.  When I came to, I had to laugh out loud at the little games we continually play with our human brains to trick our consciousness into going to our respective “Happy Places” wherever they may reside on the map or in our heads.  For the better part of 48 hours, I took a mini-vacation from the winter elements outside of my kitchen window.   I must admit, I did feel a little better from where I started on Saturday morning.

Okay, maybe I’m just in the trial separation phase of my long-term relationship with winter, but I’m definitely taking it slow on the rebound.  I’ve decided I’ll keep my 724 Pro Volkl’s (skis) and will not put them up for offer on Craigslist on Monday morning.  For now, I’ll keep Aspen penciled on my Bucket Ski List and I won’t necessarily rule out buying those cross-country skis next winter ready to break them in on the long par 5 holes at Laurel Creek. 

More importantly, our Sears Kenmore will live to see another day!

Sorry to interrupt reading my most intimate thoughts, but Travis McGee just texted me.  It appears that my junior knight-errant skills are in demand.  Something about joining him on the Busted Flush heading up to Treasure Island, Florida.   Seems like some poor bastard did some young woman wrong and we gotta make it right.   The embers in my fireplace have turned from orange to black.   My bottle of tequila is empty and I’m all out of ice.  I’ll send you a postcard when I get there........

I know I should be leaving this climate
I got a verse but can't rhyme it
I gotta go where it's warm

Regards,

“Meyer”

It's Only Stuff, Man

That's all you need in life, a little place for your stuff. That's all your house is: a place to keep your stuff. If you didn't have so much stuff, you wouldn't need a house. You could just walk around all the time.    George Carlin, 1986.

It was a typical Saturday morning a few weeks ago when I entered our home office (spare bedroom) in search of a photograph I was looking for.   Cursing out loud after my big toe collided with an old computer monitor lying near the entranceway, I gazed around this 12 x 12 space in disgust and disbelief.  I looked down to view approximately four square feet of carpet that was visible and presently uncluttered.  How did I (we) come to accumulate all this crap? 

When feeling returned to my foot, I decided to make my stand – today would be the day this room gets purged of all unnecessary items.  If I haven’t “used it”, “opened it”, “viewed it” or “borrowed it” in the last 2 years, “it” gets tossed.  In the hallway two piles quickly formed – charitable donations and dumpster trash.

Frankly, I could not believe some of the items that I “rediscovered” in this room. 

My U of D accounting textbooks, an old tennis racquet, old photos, Polar fitness watch, Lauren’s baby portraits, old Jimmy Buffett calendar, Flyers lithograph of the first game played at the CoreStates Spectrum, Golf magazine “Best 500 Holes in the World”, Animal House VHS tape, old cell phone, Lauren’s hand written Christmas list to Santa, Coldplay ticket stub, Ski Magazine “New Gear” issue, Disney 25^th Anniversary glass, Springsteen cassette tapes, old Rolling Stone magazines, birthday mixtape (CD) I made for Marie, annual report from my first employer, a photo I purchased from my friend Joe, history of baseball poster………  

These were a few of my former “favorite things”……..

Interestingly, some of these items still evoked (stronger than I would have imagined) emotions of happiness and sadness, while others had lost their meaning as the years disappeared.

The lazy Saturday morning exercise was therapeutic, long overdue and necessary.  Still on this I this “purge” high, I immediately scribbled down the remaining rooms in this house that would soon be addressed in a similar manner in the weeks to come.  I cheerfully posted the stickee on the family calendar hanging in the kitchen feeling a minor sense of accomplishment!

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Shortly before the holidays I was visited by some dear old high school friends.  After some pleasantries and quite a few beers, I informed them I was de-constructing “Glory Days” my Man Cave.  They were in disbelief.  For the first time reader here, Glory Days (yes, named after the Springsteen song) was my secret asylum protecting me from the Real World, filled with nearly 50 years of Scott’s stuff.  From my old vinyl record collection to some recent swag collected at the 2012 Winter Classic with Lauren, this was sanctuary.  During cold winter Monday nights, my buds and I gathered here and played poker with our change containers.  In summers past, Marie’s annual Crabfest was celebrated in this room catching up with old friends over my (if I must say) legendary Margaritas.  Twenty plus years later, this room and all this stuff owes me nothing!

It was cool to see Sherry choose some of my old albums, while Brian and Mary chose some other items which brought back specific memories for them.  That was the best part.  I had used up all the memories these things had provided me, whereas my friends now had some small trinkets that reminded them of certain childhood or early adult memories that only they experienced.  It was neat to see what they chose and discuss with them on why these intimate objects still held sway over them all these years later.

So, I’m using this blog to extend everyone reading this an “Open Invitation” to visit 8 Meadow Drive over the next few months/years to claim a little bit of Scott’s legacy but more importantly some of your own memories long ago forgotten.  If anyone is old enough to remember that Delaware Valley 70s electronics personality, Crazy Eddie, you remember how he used to promote his frequent sales.  “Everything must go, go, go……”  I’m not taking all this stuff with me to the Island.

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On the night of my 52^nd birthday, I find myself with my wife at an old dive bar we used to frequent from the days of our youth.  In between appetizers, she and I “toast” my daughter and her five ZTA sorority sisters currently half way around the world in Istanbul with plans to eventually travel to London over the course of the next two weeks.  It was only days ago we all gathered together to celebrate her 22^nd birthday with a nice family dinner.

Right now, she’s collecting once-in-a-lifetime memories in lands with funny sounding names, seeing once-in-a-lifetime sights, taking photographs of these moments and journaling her travels.  Maybe she has it right, maybe that is the key…..collecting life experiences, instead of collecting these tangible material things that clutter our rooms, our lives and our minds. 

So back up that dumpster and let me fill it with these things I will no longer need for the second part of my life’s journey.  I feel the time has come to throw all this stuff away and make plans to fill those temporary empty spaces with memories of surfing in new places, quiet walks on the beach at sunset and rowdy nights out with friends celebrating milestone events together.

In my 20s I was told that “He who dies with the most toys wins”….now in my 50s, I’m a little bit wiser (just a little) and I have come to understand…..“Toys aren’t the answer and the answer is different for every person.  Unlike those Iowa tests from our youth, there is no correct answer per se.  The correct answer is for each person to follow their own individual dreams and aspirations as happiness is more likely to be achieved with this approach.  After all, we’re each given a finite number of heartbeats and breaths, and none of know when the accountants will be adding up the score and closing the books for the year”.   

Me….effectively immediately I’ll be collecting moments spent with friends and loved ones, cultivating hobbies and passions that bring me happiness, enjoying My Ride as long as I can knowing there are no guarantees.

It took me thirty years to figure some of this crap out.  I could blame that on being a stubborn Capricorn, but the time has come to own it and make plans to change it.

“As I’m fated for the material world
Get frustrated in the material world
Senses never gratified
Only swelling like a tide
That could drown me in the
Material world”

George Harrison, 1973