3/2/23
Norm,
This a revised version of a letter I wrote you earlier about
your recent story in the Leader Telegram titled Stuck in The Sandbox of Astrophysics. Your Gators tale sparked some thoughts in me that I thought I
would write down and share with you as my story. This is only my story, and you are certainly
free to not read it, believe it, respect it, or take any of it seriously,
unless you want to, with no consequences as a result. I like
to call this story - Vampires Make Three Brothers Wrestle Then Sink Boat
After Smoking With Three Sisters, which is mostly a true story, names were left out to protect
the innocent – except for Mrs. Rogers (may she rest in peace) who was actually
guilty of ringing the bell, and intended only for mature readers due to dropping
of F-bombs and references to smoking.
The story begins with - If I was you … I might consider shutting the books, turning off the internet, and going outside to play next time I felt like summarizing what I thought dead astrophysics had to say about the universe. That suggestion comes back to me from my mother, who made that suggestion numerous times to me, when me and my brothers were couped up in the house too long, probably staring at the latest Dark Shadows episode. I was always glad she did as it always seemed way more interesting to be outside than it was staring at actors playing the un-dead and their latest scheme to suck their next innocent victim’s blood.
My mother would then kick the three of us out of the house,
where we might end up in the sand pile, and break into a fight as we took turns
smashing the others sand creations. My
older brother usually won those battles, but then sometimes my younger brother would
help me out and we could break free from his stronger grip and threatening spit. Eventually we got over the fighting, and we might
wander over to the neighbors and see if anyone was up for a walk. Along the way we might smoke a cigarette we
found, or toss out a f-bomb, and maybe even light a real firecracker, to try
and feel like bigshots. But eventually
we always found some place fun to explore, when we stopped our experiments with
fire.
I remember one such trip when we went to Dump Lake. We found an old rowboat and climbed in and
launched it from the shore, and then bailed out as water poured in from the rotted
bottom of the wooden boat. There we left
it and slogged back to shore through the mud.
Later when we heard the beckoning call of Mrs. Rogers cow bell beckoning
her three daughter’s home for lunch, we dragged our drenched pants back to our neighborhood
homes, where cries of “don’t come in the house with those dirty shoes” filled
the air. Days like those taught me way
more about what life in the universe was like than anything I ever learned from
stories told from screens and boxes.
We didn’t care if our friends were boys or girls, or squirrels. We didn’t rank them based on the color of
their hair. We didn’t even mind if they
paddled from the right side, or the left side, as long as they helped us bail
out. We made room for everyone in our
boat rides. We didn’t judge anyone by
the size of their paddle, how they rowed it, or even where they stowed it.
And we didn’t ask them to cleanse themselves in the lake before they
jumped in either, as we knew we would all get splashed in the big sinking. And we especially didn’t care which church our
rowing partners went to on Sunday and even encouraged them to skip out and join
us for more days of rest filled excursions.
And nobody told anyone else what to do, or if they did, we all chipped in
to shut that fool up. And our boat may have sunk, but we walked away
wiser for the experience. At least that
is how I would like to mostly remember those days sometime in the future.
As I got older in life, I forgot about my old lessons, and started reading more books, pursuing other things to make me feel big and distracted, and mostly forgot to go outside, until my daughters came along. Those two, and their mother, have done their best to try and reteach me those lessons of old, to get outside and play. Some days instead of just kicking my daughters outside, I joined them, and they taught me once again the power of play. Sometimes I felt big when I got to tell them about what this or that was, or how it worked, or where it came from. Other times I was humble enough to tell them I didn’t know the answers, and let them go out on their own to figure it out. One of the joys of my life is to see my daughters grow into their third decade of life and teach their old-man new things about the world, that I never knew, from places I have never been.; reminding me that I am definitely not the know it all I think I am. I have also come to realize that whether or not my daughters decide to have children of their own, is definitely not my decision, any more than it is their decision to tell me what to do - even if they do have some great suggestions!
And that fills me with gratitude and reminds
me that I get another great day to spend in the beautiful world filled with amazing
people with many different ideas and reminds me that I really have no clue what
tomorrow will bring, but try to allow myself to be amazed at what blossoms I
might find unfolded, and the varieties of ways they became pollinated.
So that is my story for today, and anybody is welcome to stop
by anytime if you would like to exchange more of our stories. I could show you my gardens, share some soup and fruit cocktails from my harvests and forages, and then go for a walk on the boardwalk over the
lake. And maybe even get off the path
and walk in the woods. Maybe then we
could talk a bit more about what our stories really mean. And if you let me know ahead of time when you
are going to stop by, I could invite my astrophysicist son-in law to come along
and tell us some more lively tales about what he has learned about our cosmos since he crawled out of his
sandbox a long time ago and began exploring the universe outside of the box. Maybe he could bring his telescope, later on
we could have a fire, and when the moon rises, we could explore the craters of
the moon from earth, before it sets. And perhaps he could tell us stories about what he has learned about other things far beyond the dark side of that moon. Maybe then we might remember there is much more to the Story than meets
the eye, or is there?
Well enough of my rambling and now to get out and do some wandering
and wondering, while I imagine my now dead father telling my living mother “to shut
that boy up and make him go outside to play”.
Tom Jablonski
Jablon’ Gardens
(Where Morethan Apples is Mostly Free-Grown)
504 Oak Street North
Frederic WI 54837
763-807-3698
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