In high school we read a short story in which a character lamented he was “too old for spring.” How foolish. Spring is a renewal. We snatch back our youth. Unless you’re a snowboarder, life becomes a little more pleasant.
I’m not going to worry about political topics and debates. I will not give my reasons why Mitt Romney will beat President Obama in November. I will not criticize the Utah Legislature for passing the now-vetoed sex education bill, “fixing” a problem which most Utahns didn’t think existed. I won’t be disturbed that worries in China and Portugal could halt the U.S. stock market rally or that several health insurance companies are requesting 18% increases in premiums.
Not. Not going to worry about it this day, this Spring.
It’s a beautiful weekend morning and, rather than using the car, I decide to walk to the grocery store. It’s only a mile, a 15-minute stroll, and my handful of purchases will not weigh me down on my return walk home.
A neighbor slows his car and rolls down his window to ask if I need a ride. He cannot imagine why anyone would use human limbs instead of a six cylinder engine. Then again, I can’t imagine why he would pay for a Gold’s Gym membership yet drive his Ford one-half mile to buy milk at a Maverick.
“No, I’m walking, but I appreciate the offer,” I tell him. He looks at me as if I’ve lost my marbles.
I pity him. It’s a beautiful morning. A few people are jogging. One man was biking until a flat tire sidelined him to a bank of grass. “I’m waiting for my ride,” he said. “But it’s a nice day to sit here in the sun.”
Walking alerts you to the dirty menaces. On my walk, I notice the enormous amount of littering that goes unnoticed from the front seat of my Toyota. Tossing cigarette butts is annoying, but that pales to the idiots who carelessly discard plastic liter bottles of Diet Coke. If I saw them in the act, I’d make a citizen’s arrest. “Hey, this neighborhood is not your landfill!”
Of course, I’d probably not say anything. It’s Spring, a time to rejoice rather than finding confrontations. At a nearby playground, children have left a sundry collection of shoes, t-shirts, and balls. Their parents, their royal inquisitors, will ask them today where they left their stuff. Some of the children will be baffled. They were “all over the place” yesterday. C’mon, Mom. It is Spring, a time which timelessly gobbles up kids’ clothes and toys to the consternation of their parents.
I’m not going to get discouraged by the price of gas or how I’m losing in the NCAA March Madness bracket pool or that Rush Limbaugh is attempting to justify hate-mongering. Spring was in Winter’s womb, and a birth has taken place.
My morning walk is finished. I just might run three miles this afternoon. We’ve defeated Winter one more time.