There are times when writing, for me, turns into a real chore. This issue's column had turned into one of those times.
Limited is a publication about the all of the great people that make up this community. Therefore, I've always felt that it's only fair for me to share my life's stories with you, the reader, as well.
Unfortunately, unlike the endless stream of people to highlight, my personal saga is only so interesting, and does have a finite number of chapters. Recently, I got to the point of my own personal story telling, that if I were a business, I'd be in bankruptcy court.
My column for the July-August Limited was, indeed, one such instance. It was the beginning of May, and I had still not written one word. Several uninspired attempts at cobbling something together resulted in nothing more than a pile of clunkers waiting for some kind of bailout.
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On the morning of Saturday, May 2, I was informed by Mary, upon awaking, that we were going to do a major house cleaning that day. This was to be of epic proportions, not the normal vacuum, dust and scrub exercise. I wrote-off Mary's vigilance at which she pursed this as her normal, annual cleaning binge. It becomes a family affair, and involves the assistance of our daughter, Stefanie, who for the most part, doesn't get too involved with regular cleaning operations.
For some reason, Mary was overly concerned that morning, although I tried as best to ignore it and do whatever was told. With the earbuds in and iPod on, I figured the course of least resistance would serve me best; it'll be over with by noon, even in the worst-case scenario.
A funny thing happened, though: I had a brainstorm of an idea about my column. Housework could wait.
Normally when I write a column, it comes in one big shot; rarely do I piece something together. After a while it became obvious to Mary that I was off the job, so she came looking for me. Once she found me in the TV/computer room, she demanded to know why I was at the computer and not cleaning.
Being in the zone, I informed her that I was working on my column, and "politely" reminded her of all the evenings and weekends she has spent on work assignments at our home computer.
Unbeknownst to me, Mary had an ulterior motive for her persistence of having me clean that day: She had planned a surprise 50th birthday for me that evening. (Now there's a heck of a deal - I got to clean the house for my own party!)
That morning, I had woken with a splitting headache. Cleaning the house didn't help, so after lunch, I said I was going downstairs for a nap. No problem, I was informed; Mary and Stefanie were going to go shopping and do some "girl stuff." Barely an hour later, they came home and made enough noise in the kitchen to make it impossible for me to sleep.
Head still throbbing and a stomach doing somersaults, I decided to go upstairs and get a Sierra Mist. Suddenly, Mary came upstairs and informed me that my good friend Larry Clark was on the phone. Larry had just got a new amp earlier that week, and had also got his model trains up and running, so he wanted me to come over and check it all out. Just a few hours; no big deal. If it had been anyone else, I would have said no, I'm not feeling well, but since it was Larry, I relinquished.
A few of hours later, I got a SOS call from Mary. Some "unexpected" people showed-up at the house, and had, essentially, invited themselves for dinner that night. In addition to that, the garage door had quit working again. (Or so she said.) Suddenly, going home that evening wasn't an attractive option.
On the way over to the house, Larry insisted on coming in and taking a look at the garage door problem, since electronics is one his areas of expertise. I tried telling Larry that given the circumstances, it was probably best if we looked at the garage door another night. Of course, he was in on the whole thing, so he was having none of it - he was coming in with me.
And what greeted me when I opened the door? A room full of very special people. I had to leave my sunglasses on for an extra moment to regain my composure.
Anybody and everybody I could have wished for was in our living room that night.
Perhaps, in its own way, the surprise party Mary threw for me provided me with the stimulus I need to attack the coming years and next phases of life's adventure.
At the very least, it was a bailout for this issue's column.
