The Pretty One is off the grid. Again. Hopefully sheâ€™ll be back online again in the morning, but until then you get my musings. And if sheâ€™s not online in the morning, sheâ€™s headed to the wireless store. (Think our parents had any idea one of those was coming? Well, perhaps â€“ they did invent the Radio Shack. Kind of the same thing.)
So our evening conversation wandered around as it always does. She hates the weather up there. She hates her cable provider. She hates icy roads that prevent her from getting to the grocery store. But the kidlets loved the made-from-scratch pancakes. Mmmmmm â€¦. Pancakes â€¦. Er, sorry about that.
Then the conversation turned to my not being in midair and en route. And I was told not to say anything about how much I hate the Boston Marathon. Which I wouldnâ€™t say, because I really liked covering the marathon, even if I did almost run over Bill Rogers one year.
The wandering continued to the wedding plans we wonâ€™t be making this weekend. She talked with the pastor and has a meeting on Monday with him, and so sheâ€™ll get some things worked out. But there are some decisions we need to make â€“ flowers, vows and readings.
I trust her on the flowers. Well, letâ€™s put it this way â€“ when she asked me what kind of flowers I liked, I paused and said, â€œDandelions?â€
To which she responded, â€œIâ€™m allergic to them.â€
Vows weâ€™re leaning towards simplicity on, but the readings â€¦ thereâ€™s something I would like to sink my teeth in to. I am not a biblical scholar by any means, but I think Iâ€™m rather well read in a round about way. So I trundled over to my bookshelves and plucked a book of poems out, remembering one Iâ€™d heard years ago.
The Pretty One paused while I read to myself, then needled me to share. And I decided that the poem has absolutely no relationship to our wedding or marriage, so itâ€™s right out.
Did you ever stand on the ledges,
On the brink of the great plateau,
And look from the jagged edges
On the country that lay below?When your vision met no resistance
And nothing to stop your gaze,
Til the mountain peaks in the distance
Stood wrapped in a purple haze.â€¦There-the things that you considered strongest
And the things that you thought were great,
And for which you had striven longest,
Seemed to carry but little weight.â€¦While youâ€™re gazing on such a vision,
And your outlook is clear and wide,
If you have to make a decision,
Thatâ€™s the time and place to decide.Although you return to the city
And mingle again with the throng;
Though you should be softened by pity,
Or bitter from strife and wrong.
Though others should laugh in derision,
And the voice of the past grow dim;
Yet, stick to the cool decision
That you made on the mountainâ€™s rim.
I have a CD where Chuck Pyle recites that prior to singing a song, the first Iâ€™d ever heard by him. Years later I got to meet him and ask him about the poem. He said he always felt bad about messing up a few of the lines, but he got the idea across.
The song he sang was â€œEndless Sky,â€ about a cowboy coming off the range to settle down (â€œBesides nothingâ€™s quite the same, this cowboyingâ€™s gotten too tame. And the roof of a pickup takes up too much of the skyâ€). Which is kind of appropriate, and I love the song. But he misses the range â€“ and I donâ€™t expect that.
So now Iâ€™m back to square one. But thereâ€™s still time â€¦
-Otto (not out, Iâ€™m not allowed to say that anymore)