Last night we agreed we’d go grocery shopping today.  And visit my elderly mother.  Early this morning before resolving to quit the downy lair an idea struck me as a further refinement of the project.  We could combine our grocery mission with breakfast at a local beanery. It had been weeks since we had exercised our summer tradition of going to the golf club for breakfast in the Village of Appleton overlooking the Mississippi River. Now that the clubhouse was closed for the season, the opportunity presented itself to re-enact the erstwhile weekend custom at a new venue.

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There is a sphere of experience no one wants to be the winner; namely, suffering the worst calamity. No matter to whom you speak it isn’t long before a tale of misery insinuates the conversation, whether a family death, serious medical issue, financial hardship, child-rearing problem, matrimonial battle, traffic accident, employment downturn, travel disaster, whatever! Eventually none of us escapes the perils of living and it is with the predictability of a dice roll that it happens to any one of us. Of course we’re never prepared for the eventuality, it always “comes as a shock” and “we never imagined it could happen to us”. Yet it does. Life is as certain as the outcome of the Brexit vote but the chance of misfortune just a close.

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Today I wrapped up matters with the accountant and we are now in readiness. Granted there remain a few details to settle before our departure but nothing critical. As is my wont I compliment ourselves on having dove-tailed the many things to address over the past seven months in anticipation of our five-month sojourn on Hilton Head Island. The sensation of accomplishment is reminiscent of how I normally felt when working and preparing to leave for a paltry week’s holiday. I suppose the template is identical. What however amazes me is the fortuity to fulfill all the prerequisites without annoying loose ends.

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The earliest recollection I have of entertaining is a cooperative luncheon in my first year at law school shortly before classes had begun for the fall semester. I met someone who distinguished himself by knowing how to cook, a talent which until then I had succeeded to avoid by living in circumstances where meals had always been provided to me (boarding school and residential university). My new acquaintance and I collected vegetables and brown rice from the local grocery store.  I remember the production being very tasty. Because he did the cooking my only contribution was the premises (the unimpressive kitchen at the law fraternity Domus Legis).

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Recently I was asked by a distinguished friend of mine:

Might you offer any explanation for how you so often obtained “leadership” positions, (Don, etc.)?

The question set me back on my heels as I don’t think of myself as a leader. The enquiry prompted me to consider the matter further.

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Not everyone gets excited about cars.  Though I most certainly do. If for example I’m in a physician’s waiting room nervously drumming my fingers on my knee, my attention is instantly drawn to a magazine about cars. I go for it! Doesn’t matter that many of the specialty car magazines are about collector cars or antique cars or sports cars. Almost anything to do with cars is fine by me (including the proliferation of tire advertisements).  I confess my personal preference is for late model cars but I never turn down a look at vintage sheet metal from the American automobile industry.

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In anticipation of my annual physical check-up my physician told me to have some routine blood tests. It isn’t necessarily a surprise to have walked into Life Labs this morning, had my blood withdrawn, then walked out and driven back home in under an hour.  But you have to admit it is pretty good; and it stands for the value of living in this small town with these social conveniences so readily accessible.  We can walk to everything here, bank, baker, doctor, dentist, grocery store and hospital.  It never ceases to surprise me because it reinforces how clever we are to live here, to awaken to a sunrise over a meadow, to be free of urban traffic and to have all those amenities I mentioned.

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What a sublime autumn Sunday! I don’t even feel shameful for having lolled in the huge mahogany bed under layers of lambswool and goose feather down until almost ten o’clock this morning.  We hadn’t yet turned on the heat this year and the place was decidedly chilly from the cold air blowing through the open windows and billowing the sheers.

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We anxiously await news of Hurricane Matthew tracking north at 12 mph along the barrier islands including Hilton Head Island. Unless it is swept away that’s where in approximately three weeks we’re scheduled to alight for five months. There are two sure-fire ways to eliminate a problem, at least temporarily.  One, drink.  The other, sleep.

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Before I went to boarding school at the age of fourteen years I lived with my parents and my sister in a house. Oddly I cannot recall any specifics of accommodation while living with my parents (except that I once had an aquarium). But since I left home, I can clearly recall the detail of every place I’ve lived.  I tell people that I am a “cave dweller” because my habitations have been on a microscopic scale.

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