The Son Also Rises
Glenn, MI
July 26, 2020
The temperature is cool and the coffee is hot. At my back, behind the house, the sun is rising.
On the bird-feeder, a goldfinch stares down a black squirrel, and begins to eat. Between them and me…about twelve feet away…my bunny is back, enjoying his breakfast.
Kurt Richebacher, who for years wrote about economic chicanery, was once asked why he focused so much on the sins, foibles, and flaws of our ruling elite and the policies to which they subject the rest of us. ”What good”, he replied, “would it do for me to write about all the things that are going right with the world? We should simply enjoy those things.”
That’s what we’ve been doing. One morning meeting that I couldn’t miss brought me briefly back to earth. Otherwise, David and I spent most of the last three days relaxing on the bluff, lounging on the beach, and cooling in the lake. One of us would also enjoy some extra time on the lawn.
On Friday, we realized we were short-changed on the beach umbrella we bought the previous day. Having unfolded our chair, plopped the cooler onto the sand, and pulled the umbrella from its sleeve…we noticed something missing.
The six-foot umbrella was only three feet tall. We had no bottom extension to lengthen the pole. Apparently, it was never in the bag. What we had might suffice to shelter our rabbit, but could shade no more of us than our feet. But I was in no mood to return to Walmart.
Fortunately, I have a Boy Scout with me. David thought we could find a stick on the beach…as we did last year to make an oar for a newfound canoe…and use that as a makeshift extension. We found one and tried, but it was too flimsy.
But the idea had merit. We just needed sturdier material. Our generous host has a couple unused metal poles hidden in the back of the shed. We grabbed one, taped it to the upper pole, and jerry-rigged a usable umbrella. Under it, we enjoyed a few hours on the beach, and dried in the breeze between swims in the lake.
Yesterday, we vacated the premises a couple hours for an Open House. This brought us back to South Haven. We went first to Su Casa for the meal we were deprived on Thursday. As when we were here last month, only the outside deck was open. On this day, that was absolutely fine.
We availed ourselves of the immaculate weather by walking to the lighthouse. We were not alone. I was pleased to see South Haven filled with pedestrians, its sidewalks packed with restaurant patrons.
Every shop seemed to be open, and busy. The sense of normalcy was refreshing. The application or removal of mandatory masks as customers crossed thresholds was the only reminder that things weren’t quite as they seemed.
But virus or not, the confluence of a Saturday, short summers, and clear skies causes Michiganders to take their chances.
Along the Water Street, boats bustled in the marina, eager to join the armada already plying the river, pressing toward the open lake. On either side of the lighthouse pier, beaches were packed. Aside from the background bluffs, it could have been Clearwater or Daytona.
From the pier a few people took advantage of deeper water to dive into the lake. Under the lighthouse, some stood while others sat, feet dangling from the pier, soaking up the sun and the scene. We took a few minutes to do so ourselves.
As watching the Masters instills an urge to play golf, watching people relax on the beach implanted a similar desire. Our brief exile having expired, we decided it was time to return to the house, and satisfy it.
With the special talents of Boy Scouts also come particular urges. Among those is to be outdoors. When we were here last month, David partly scratched that itch by bringing his hammock.
Strapped between a couple trees just outside the screened porch, and easily detached when not in use, this became his preferred point of relaxation. Book (or phone) in hand, he’d sway away a hour, sometimes dozing to the touch of the breeze or sound of the waves.
As David continued scratching the itch, it developed into a rash. Swinging in a hammock is nice, but anyone can do that. Heck…even his book-reading, wine-sipping, diary-posting father would do that! What true Scouts do…what real men do…is sleep outside.
For his Scout camping trips, my son recently received an upgraded hammock, complete with mosquito netting and rain shield. This month, it joined his older model in our luggage. Last night, he wanted to test drive it.
I told him he could, but that we couldn’t leave the hammock hanging throughout the day. After all, this may be a beautiful spot to camp, but it is not a campground. And we don’t want it to look like one.
He was fine with that. Besides, with the new carabiners we purchased earlier in the day, it only takes a few seconds to disconnect his outdoor bed.
David chose a good night. The weather was perfect. No clouds, little wind, relatively warm. As the sun fell into the lake, David’s sleeping bag went into the hammock.
After dinner and a movie, I went to bed. As I did so, I heard the screen door creak, and saw a small light moving into the yard. It then disappeared, falling into the unseen bag in which my son had arranged to place himself. Behind it all, a crescent moon paved a lane of soft light across the laconic lake.
My coffee is now as cool as the morning air. The birds continue to flock. To my surprise the bunny has remained. To no surprise, the squirrels never leave.
When I stand to refill my coffee, the rabbit finally darts away. I fear I have frightened him. But then I realize it wasn’t me. After being out here an hour, I finally see the hammock begin the rumble.
As the sun continues its ascent in the east, it sheds its first light on the lawn, waking those who thought to sleep there. It is only then, after what he claims was a comfortable night in nature, that the son also rises.
JD