OPENING DAY 5772

It's been a tough week. We started re-roofing the old barn out at WSSP II and no sooner did we get the shingles in the dumpster than the sky opened up and shut us down. Every morning it's been the same thing- 6:30 AM call Al B., (who has already been up for an hour.) "We can't catch a fucking break." I moan into the phone, as the rain pounds against the windows. "Try tomorrow, Bub." Al says, trying to be positive and I crawl back in bed. On one of the few clear days I drove home in the Neon, every muscle aching. As soon as I pulled off the highway I felt the car shift...like I had hit a patch of ice. But it's only Sept.. After stopping at the stop sign I pull out, only to have the car skid to a stop. The right tire was cocked and the steering wheel had no effect.. A broken tie rod dangled obscenely. If it had happened 30 seconds earlier i most likely wouldn't be writing this.
   Out of habit more than anything, I listen to OPR (Old People Radio). Nowhere is the baby boomer party line more evident than this mix of Classical muzak and lefty news. Almost every "human interest" story is geared to the geezer set. And nowadays it's all about how unprepared we all are for retirement. I became an artist specifically so that I would not have to retire. But when I was 30 I didn't think I'd still be putting roofs on in order to fix my art jones at 60. Retire from roofing? FUCK YEAH! So Friday night after Shewho fixed me a wonderful dinner and I licked my wounds, I brought up the retirement issue. Big mistake. Within minutes we were in a big argument about money (or lack thereof) art (who believed more in whose) old age, health, injury, etc., etc. Needless to say it went from bad to worse and I drove home, in the pouring rain. I take full responsibility for being the asshole. I'm good like that.
   The next day was opening day of turkey season and after blowing off work (rain again) and making up with Shewho (she's the most wonderful woman on earth and very forgiving), I put on the camo, grabbed the 12 ga. and hit the woods. I started up behind Ralph's at the end of Robertson road. You know the place- a nice steep ridge of hardwoods and big hay fields. I slowly walked the edge. A little doe spooked and I didn't pay too much attention, until I saw a bunch of turkey heads bobbing down into the woods behind the deer. Shit. I'm off my game. The deer had spooked the birds. So for the rest of the afternoon I tried to find those birds. I'd call a little, then walk slowly, setting up again against various trees, listening for any yelps or clucking. Nothing. As the sun went in and out of dark clouds I worked my way into unfamiliar territory and before I knew it I was hopelessly lost. Then it rained....again.
   Finally I found myself in a recently mowed hay field ringed with posted signs. I could see a road and decided I would try to get my bearings from there. The problem was between me and the road stood a guy with a rifle. I yelled and waved. Luckily I saw him before he saw me. He was not pleased to see a stranger coming across his field. I explained my bone headed sense of direction and he thawed a bit when I told him I lived just down the road. He was trying to kill a coyote he had spotted. I blew that for him. Between apologies I informed him of a nice line of buck rubs I'd spotted. He told me how to get back to Robertson Rd. and as I turned one way and he turned the other, a nice buck blasted across the grass in front of me. I yelled back and held my fingers above my head- "NICE BUCK!" He smiled and gave me the thumbs up. I went back to Shewho's to dry out and get ready for SLICK AND ZEV'S SPECIAL K ROLLER RAMA later that evening. Am I too old for such foolishness? That's another story.....