My Weirdness and the Incoming Storm

Hurricane Irene is slated to slam into my neck of the woods come Sunday morning.  I've been tracking the storm for a few days now and, though it seems like it is continuing to lose energy, this might actually happen, we might actually get hit with a violent storm right at the tail end of the summer.  Most people are probably thinking something like this:

Sane People

I'm a little weird, here's what's going through my mind:

Crazy People

In my last post I talked about how Fall was my favorite season and I made mention of the sudden, intense storms that sometime come at you out of nowhere.  I mentioned them as part of the reason I like Fall because I happen to love interesting weather.  Day after day of nothing but sunshine or partial could cover can make life seem so boring.  I like weather that changes by the day and I like strong, unexpected storms most of all.

I don't know if it's the excitement of living on the edge of life and death (though let's be real about this, most storms we face down are merely an inconvenience because they knock out the power) or if it has something to do with experiencing a natural phenomenon first hand.  Maybe its a little of both (or a lot of both).  I just know that I get excited when I hear a heavy rain falling outside of the apartment or a clap of thunder in the distance.

Needless to say, the approaching hurricane has me all a tingle.  I realize that, classified as a natural disaster, any hurricane has the potential to cause untold amounts of damage and take the lives of scores of people.  I'm not callous, I feel for those people who lose their homes and their lives during natural disasters, but for myself, I just can't be scared about it.  I want to experience these things, to live through them, to know what it's like to come out the other side with a new appreciation for our short, mortal lives.

I'll be heading north this weekend to visit with my nephew and my in-laws who are positioned just far enough away from the coast where we'll probably see some heavy rain and high winds, but nothing truly awe inspiring.  My mother has decided to stay at her house with her dogs.  She lives in Delaware and has a hurricane warning hanging ominously over her town of residence.  I will keep trying to convince her to leave, because I'm nervous for her.  While I confess I want to see something amazing, I am comforted by the knowledge that my father is in Texas, my wife will be with me, and my brother is in the mountains.

To those who experience the hurricane full force, good luck.

Fall is Coming

I can definitely feel the change of the season coming.  Fall is quickly getting ready to usurp Summer's place as reigning king of the outdoors and I, for one, couldn't be happier.  Aside from the fact that the Fall season contains one of my favorite "holidays", it also holds the distinction, for me at least, of being one of the most beautiful times of year.

Summer, with all its wonderful heat, bright sun, green trees, and swimming, simply cannot beat the scent of trees, leaves, and grasses carried upon a gentle breeze, the cool weather that invites you to take a walk outside, the beautifully colored canopies of trees, and the sudden magnificent storms that come out of nowhere.  Summer is a bland stretch of monotony, Fall is a refreshingly short stride through ever changing days.

Summer was always more fun when we were kids anyway.

Summer as a Kid

Summer as an Adult

As a kid, you got the summer off from school and you had the whole day to get out there and just enjoy life.  You didn't care how hot it was because you could take your shirt off, sit in the shade under a tree, climb to the top of a hill, or ride your bike to the pool.  In most cases, Fall, like a fine wine, can only really be appreciated with age.  When you were a kid, fall signaled the start of the school year.  You had to wear a jacket when you went outside and there were precious few hours of daylight after school during which you could do the important work that comes with being a kid, like catching salamanders.

I have, however, always appreciated the Fall season.  I lived on a mountain in the woods while I was growing up and spent a lot of time outside, among the trees.  You really have to be in the forest to appreciate all the sounds, the smells, and the colors.  Living there, close to nature, that's where I developed my love for fall.  Summer was vibrant with life, but it was lazy, hot, and sluggish. Fall was the knife-edge before Winter where life didn't have the luxury of taking a nap.

The woods where I grew up have been mostly removed in order to put up cookie cutter homes for the newly affluent residents who live in my home region during the summer.  The left some of the trees, but mostly as a backdrop to the homes, so that they could say that the homes were located in a rustic area and charge an extra $250,000 for the opportunity to feel like you were roughing it out there in the boonies. I still remember them though.  I remember the names for all the little hidden places: the tree graveyard, the dark spot, deer tick hill, hunter's hideaway, and so many others.

Now as Fall approaches, I can't help but think that I'm not well positioned to experience it, and I haven't been for the last three years.  Living in the suburbs, even well planned out communities that utilize a lot of trees as cover for all the ugly buildings, has made it difficult to recapture the wonder that I experienced for over twenty years every time that fall came around.

Ride 'Em Horsewigs!

As kids, my brother and I spent a lot of time using our imaginations to keep us entertained.  This was due, in equal parts, to a lack of family funding, a love for the fantastic, over active creativity glands, popular culture, being kids, and also being a little (or a lot) bat-shit crazy.

We loved the Ninja Turtles, so we spent mornings fighting each other in the living room while our parents slept peacefully at the end of the hallway despite our loud hi-yahs, our jump kicks from the sofa, and our bodies hitting the ground full force in the way that only kids can survive.

Once we grew bored with the Ninja Turtles (you can only play as Leonardo and Donatello so many times) we started developing our own superheroes, which for me, admittedly, usually ended up being large, humanoid versions of my favorite animals.  I had heroes like Komodo Dragon, Echidna, and Flying Fox.  

My brother tended towards elongating his name: Super Josh, Super Mega Josh, Super Mega Ultra Josh (I went trick or treating one year as “Super Mega Rob”, it was not easy to explain what I was to each household we stopped at). Or he would come up with some kind of name out of nowhere (we both ended up being guilty of this) like Sinochastras (mine was Alerque).

After seeing Jurassic Park we used to go outside into the wooded lot behind our apartment complex and pretend that we were just two people against attacking velociraptors, dilophosaurs, and tyrannosaurs.  This was particularly entertaining in the snow.  We would migrate out of the woods and use snow plowed into ten foot piles to throw ourselves over the fence that separated Creekview Apartments from the seemingly more upscale apartment complex next door, all the while pretending that we were being chased by vicious man eating pseudo birds. 

I have to say, though, that the craziest thing that ever came out of our broken little minds were the Horsewigs.  Horsewigs, by our understanding (because we made them up), were giant, slug-like creatures with no eyes, very little sense of direction, and an insatiable appetite for people’s ankles. 

Playing as Horsewigs required each participant to climb head first into their sleeping bag (Ninja Turtle sleeping bags where my brother and I were concerned), rear up onto their knees, shout “Ride ‘Em Horsewigs”, and commence squinching (which is the only word I think describes the movement) around the house bumping into things, grabbing the cat, and attacking people’s ankles.

We almost never pulled out our superhero forms when company came around.  Our grandmothers never saw Super Mega M.A.J. fight it out against Raptor Rob and friends of our parents never saw Sinochastras take a hit from Golden Eagle without flinching (an infuriating thing my brother used to do was claim that most of his heroes “didn’t show pain”).  We didn’t make the same concessions where Horsewigs were involved, because we couldn’t see much more than shadows while in our Horsewig forms, so embarrassment was kept at bay and our secret identities were secure.

Ride ‘Em Horsewigs was, by far, one of our favorite activities while we lived at Creekview Apartments, and it was also the reason why our sleeping bags ended up paper thin when we never, ever went camping in them.  Nothing else compared to the sensory depravation that allowed us to imagine our own world where the Horsewigs roamed free, unbound by bed time, dinner time, bath time, or any other time.  As we grew older, and taller, we stopped crawling into our sleeping bags the wrong way and, sadly, used them for their intended purpose.  But sometimes, when a strange wind blows, I can hear the cry of “Ride ‘Em Horsewigs!” and my heart yearns for adventure.