MIA on Father's Day

I stopped by Uncle Bubba's place for a visit and didn't see him about the yard so I walked up to the house and knocked on the door. Sweet Pea answered and said that he had been working on a piece of wooded property out behind the house for a few months and I could find him there. I thanked her and walked the trail that lead out behind the house and through a field. Uncle Bubba had kept this hay field mown yet I easily followed the narrow path to a small hardwood forest that was cut by the many steps of one man's work boots. I was aware that Uncle Bubba had often used this tract of woods to hunt and in one of his sojourns he noticed that there was a fare bit of trash that had somehow found its way mixed in with the brown leafy floor. There were also some remnants of the old farm of which his land had been subdivided, in the form of pieces of metal and equipment. Like fossils of dinosaurs, their boney shapes reveal a hint of what they used to be. Uncle Bubba had taken it upon himself to do something about getting the forest back to it's pristine natural beauty by picking up the trash and removing the rusty metallic implements.

I walked slowly, taking in the beauty of the day and the scenery around me while watching for Uncle Bubba up ahead. I passed a dirty pile of rusted metal that Bubbie had collected and staged near the edge of the woods and was impressed with his progress. I considered that it might be a challenge to find Bubbie in the expanse of woods. Perhaps I would hear him or catch a glimpse of him moving. To my surprise I found him moments later; he was sitting on a big log on the edge of the woods staring out across the field. As I walked up behind him he seemed to be in deep thought and oblivious to my presence. I said hello and took a seat beside him on the log, shifting my weight to find a comfortable spot. He said, "Hey" and then turned back to looking out over the field. His demeanor was of a man that was waiting more than a man taking a rest. I attempted to make small talk but Uncle Bubba was disinterested.
After what seemed like a long silence, Bubbie said, "Ya know I've worked on these woods for a while, spent a good piece out here. I know that I didn't create the woods, but reckon I've done my best to give it care. I know that short of somethin' tragic it will out live me."
"Uh huh," I hummed, wanting to acknowledge my listening.
"As much as I love nature," he went on, "and give my best to be a good steward, I know that it is not about me; it's about the bigger thing..."
The scratching of two squirrels scurrying up a big old oak tree caught my attention and I watched them play tag through the tree's canopy.
Bubbie continued, "Sometimes you give your best and it doesn't work out. That's life."
We sat there silent for a while; the sunlight dappled warm on our faces through the green leaves. I knew that it wasn't the wooded lot that he was talking about, it was beautiful. And I had seen how much trash that he had removed; no, there was something else on his mind. In Bubbie's view, one can care immensely about something, or someone, and want the best and give the best but that doesn't mean that everything will always turn out rosy. That also means that you still give it your best.

Climbing The Walls

Uncle Bubba got an invite from his nephew to try something new. His nephew is a member at a gym that features indoor rock climbing and thought Uncle Bubba might like to give it a try. Always looking for a new adventure he quickly accepted. Sure, it crossed his mind that he had 20 years on his nephew and he might not be in great shape, but preaching that people get off of their lazy arses and not go for it himself would be hypocritical, so Bubbie met his nephew after work for an adventurous workout. He admittedly has seen folks partake in this activity in the past and thought, "What's the big deal? It's not like real rock climbing." And it's not. But it is a challenge that taxes muscles in the body that have been long forgotten.

Going on 30 years ago, Uncle Bubba was a tree climber. He worked for several arborist outfits, climbing trees and cutting them down. He thought nothing of strapping on a saddle harness and hooks to his feet and walking up through the canopy of an ancient monster, tying himself in and repelling back down eventually safely touching down on terra firma. But this was a different experience than the one he was facing in the gym. There were tall walls and short walls all speckled in colorful little blobs in random and variegated, challenging layouts.

Uncle Bubba wedged his size 12s into a pair of climbing shoes that were at least a size 10. The fella that worked at the counter assured him that he had given him the correct size and that one's toes should be slightly bent. Bent? How about bent and retracted like a frightened turtle with a neck sprain! He was assured that the shoes should only be slightly painful to know that they're fitting correctly. They then proceeded to give Uncle Bubba a lesson in tying knots and belaying, which is holding the smart end of the climbing rope while one's partner is climbing, and they were ready to ascend. to Uncle Bubba's surprise the first climb was challenging but not too difficult. He made it to the top and was feeling pretty good, like a kid again. His nephew took on more challenging walls and they swapped turns climbing and belaying.

After an hour and a half they decided that they'd had enough, especially Bubbie. It's a total body workout and he was feeling it. Bubbie wondered what he'd feel like the next day when he got his monkey butt to work. As it turned out he was pleasantly surprised that he felt well... he's in better shape then he thought! In Bubbie's view, climbing the walls is definitely worth a try and he's looking forward to going back again. Good times!

Eggs-Treme Chaos

Ya'll wanna know what's wrong with America? Nobody cares anymore. Oh sure, we hear people bitchin' about everything under the sun, on the news, at work, in stores, in restaurants. But look around at people's actions and it speaks volumes. Uncle Bubba lives in a town like most towns in America, not a city, not a ghetto, just an average American town. That's why when he and Sweet Pea went to the grocery store to buy a dozen eggs, what they found was so disturbing; it was eggs-treme chaos!

How do we think that this is OK? Why is it acceptable to not neatly place things back in an orderly way in a public setting? Are we animals? In Bubbie's view, this is a glaring egg-sample of what is wrong with America. Straighten up! Do the right thing and use your dang manners!