Dinner in another Country

Blog No. 94

A couple days ago I was driving to work after a long hiatus. I had some time off to finish the basement (as in put up drywall in one room at one end of the still unfinished basement) and go to Toronto for a wedding with my brother. The work was difficult and the wedding was fun (but tiring) and it felt like I had hardly been away from my job at all. As it were, something peculiar was happening on my drive to work. The normally fast moving thoroughfare I take was backed up, moving slowly, and plagued with dead stops. I knew there was a lot of construction and power line maintenance over the summer, but nothing like what I was suffering though.

Ten minutes later (and a few feet further down the road) I discovered the problem. School was back. I have a strange relationship with school. When I was in school, I hated it, but I love learning, office supplies, and strangely, studying. The learning and studying came from university and have spread to my writing now, and the office supply appreciation has manifested itself in a driving need to organize things, but even when I was in high school, hating every minute of it, I looked forward to September. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I can appreciate the need for school, even as someone with no kids (and no desire for any). It keeps most of them out of my way for the majority of the year, and I suppose some of them manage to get an education while they are institutionalized – I mean in school.

That doesn’t seem to work with buses though. Those big yellow bullies change the ruled of the road as they please (not really I know) and get in the way of people on their way to and from work. Luckily I leave with plenty of time to get to work in the mornings, but I can’t help but get frustrated at and inconvenience to me, no matter how small, petty, necessary, or not really all that inconvenient at all. My dad is a bus driver, and God bless him for it. He’s an excellent driver who cares about the kids, the job, and the traffic around him. If there had to be anyone steering those behemoths around narrow, busy streets, I’m glad it’s him. I’d be more happy if they wouldn’t be in my way in the morning, but that’s not going to happen.

The issue that I (and the other drivers who share my route) had to face today was the dreaded first day. Kids don’t want to go back, some parents don’t want them to go, and some of those poor children are going for the first time ever. They are excited, but nervous, oblivious to the soul crushing they are about to experience for the next decade or so. Worst of all their parents, making the bus wait so they can take pictures on the smart phone they don’t know how to use, crying, hugging, waving (sometimes moving too far onto the street, impeding traffic, endangering lives. To be fair, I didn’t see that actually happen, but I have read enough news reports about selfish parents to know what goes on.

But that’s not what I wanted to talk about today. I wanted to talk about Autumn and September and how I always feel like it’s a fresh start. Having a break from work and writing makes me eager to get things going at Adventure Worlds, etc. But I’m out of time now. Tuesday was my brother’s Birthday. The family went to Mexican Town Restaurant in Detroit, to celebrate. That morning I woke up and went to work, gut stuck behind buses, and sat behind a desk all day – then I went to another country for dinner with my family. It’s amazing to think about. Happy September and Happy Birthday to my brother.