Posted tagged ‘being dirty’

“I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness for it shows me the stars.”

July 21, 2015

Today isn’t as hot as yesterday but the humidity is still stifling. Tonight will be cooler, and the cool weather will stay around for the next few days. The sun was out earlier but now the sky is grey, a light grey which hangs around but doesn’t brings rain. The air conditioner is still on and the house is cool. I noticed my neighbors had their windows opened earlier, but they have since closed them and put the AC back on. It doesn’t take long for the heat to permeate the house.

My mother used to keep the shades down when I was a kid. All the rooms downstairs resembled caves. She said it kept the rooms cooler. I remember going inside to get a drink and waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. It was worse going back outside when I had to cover my eyes because of the brightness of the sun. My mother was never one for sun. She wore sunglasses all year, on any day with sun. We used to call her the mole.

Being a kid had such freedom attached. I don’t mean I could go and do what I wanted, but social conventions didn’t kick in until I was older. We laughed at the grossest stuff and told horrid jokes. Milk up someone’s nose was fodder for endless jibes. We thought it hysterical. I remember there was a joke phase involving Helen Keller and kids with no arms or legs and the punch lines would send us into peals of laughter. We weren’t cruel. We were just kids. Being dirty meant nothing to us. I’d grab a sandwich and not even think about washing my hands unless my mother made me. We ate dinner on the fly, no sitting down and taking our time. We wanted to finish quickly so we could take advantage of the daylight.

In summer the street light rule was not in effect. We stayed outside until it got pretty dark. I remember my neighborhood with the windows all open and living room lamps shining to break the darkness. It was as if stars had come to ground. There was a certain beauty to it all.

“Parents have got to chill out. Let your kid eat dirt – they’re gonna be fine! “

June 2, 2015

The rain came last night, stayed a while then left earlier this morning. In its wake is a dank day, a sweatshirt to stave off the cold day. I don’t see much hope of sun. Gracie and I are going to the dump. Days like today are perfect dump days because most people are smarter than I and stay away when it rains. I don’t really care. I’ll dry. Gracie cares even less: she stays in the car.

Gracie’s water dish and my toilet bowl looked a bit like the beach yesterday. Gracie buried her chew bone outside, and   her face and jowls acted as a shovel to push dirt over her treasure. She came inside and drank to clean her face and left behind sand, lots of sand.

When I was a kid, I never minded being dirty. My hands were sometimes filthy because I caught grasshoppers in the field who left what I figured was brown poop on my hands and grabbed frogs out of the swamp water covered with bugs and algae. I usually had black blots on my fingers and hands from my bike’s handlebars grips. My pants had grass stains and dirty knees. None of it bothered me. We played hard when we were young. It was proof of a day well spent.

I always think the amount of dirt you can tolerate is directly proportional to your age. The younger you are, the dirtier you don’t mind being. I think that makes life easier. Now I hate it if my clothes have stains or if I drop a bit of lunch on my shirt. Out comes the Tide Pen. I used to carry Shout Wipes, but the pen is much easier to use. I now espouse the cleanliness next to Godliness maxim.

I do look forward to being really old simply because stains will no longer matter. The 90-year-old on my library board often wears a shirt with a stain. I chalk it up to her age and think nothing of it. It’s a sort of freedom granted to the very young and the very old. I am stuck in the middle.