Up 44
The Lignite Community Calendar hanging on the wall in our kitchen tells me that today, July 17th, is my birthday. That calendar tells me a lot of things; birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, the moon phases, and that Doc Stevens is a quilter. Lounging under the stars on one of Doc’s quilts with a keg of his home brew within arm’s reach sounds about right. Maybe I’ll pencil that in on my calendar…“Q & K Night”.
As far as birthdays go, the calendar tells me the “when” but not the “how many” for each person listed. I suppose the “how many” didn’t seem like a necessary number to post as public knowledge. This allows for the conversational game surrounding the question of, “how old do you suppose so-and-so is” to be played amongst the curious and bored. For those that are curious, and/or bored, as of this writing I have managed to log 44 living and breathing calendar years on this earth.
To commemorate this grand achievement I decided to peddle my bike 22 miles up Highway 44 and meet my family at the Sugar Shack for a bacon cheeseburger deluxe and a beer. A Sugar Shack burger is probably the only burger I would exert that much effort to obtain, as they have been voted “best burger in the hills” for four years running. I was not disappointed.
Why didn’t I peddle the 22 miles back to Rapid City to make it 44 miles on Highway 44? The thought crossed my mind when I left the house, but 22 miles of uphill, a half-pound of beef, and a pint of beer later, I was convinced otherwise. Besides the roads were thick with “Rent Me” RVs, and age has diminished the brazen stupidity I used to peddle around the hills with.
Action without thought generally guarantees that more action will be necessary to remedy the thoughtlessness. I suppose this falls under the “measure twice, cut once” advice I’ve often failed to heed. I thought twice, and thought it would be enjoyable to ride back to town with my family rather than dodge Mini-Winnie’s pulling pontoons. Besides there was a second-hand birthday cake waiting for me at home, complete with second-hand candles to blow out.
As I’m sure I’ve blabbed about before, my son’s birthday is the day before mine, so for 17 years a second-hand celebration has been the way of it, and that way is just fine by me.
It was a lovely day in the hills, and the ride gave me some time to do a little birthday pondering. A little birthday pondering between the huffing and puffing, between perusing the ditch for treasures untold, between hoping the driver of the vehicle coming up behind wasn’t texting, between wishing the downhill outnumbered the uphill, between questioning why there was a solitary sock laying on the road, between wondering whether I should have a double bacon cheeseburger or a single.
Between all of that I managed to squeeze in some birthday pondering. Not too much, just enough. Just enough to remind me of how thankful and fortunate I am for all those that let me share in their lives. My family, my friends, my students, my colleagues…an embarrassment of riches that I cherish each and every day and twice on Sunday (whatever that means).