I was driving to the car wash yesterday, when I got a call from my long time friend, John Ohlinger. He asked if I was in town, I told him I was. He invited me to stop by for some salsa. If youve ever tasted Johns homemade salsa, youd understand why I couldnt say no. We had a real nice chat sitting at his table, eating chips and salsa. I asked if he was retirement age yet. He smiled, then told me, by the rule of 88s, Im 104. He continues to work by choice, still passionate about all he does. Typical of John. The time I spend in Ottumwa is becoming more limited, who knows when I will get a chance to visit with John again. I was glad for his invite and the time we had together. As I was getting ready to leave, I shook his hand. He said that wasnt good enough, giving me a big hug. In his heartfelt embrace, I thought about how long I have know him. When I first went to Ottumwa High School, in the fall of 1976, he was a young school teacher and coach. 37 years later, he is still with the Ottumwa School District, now a principal. 37 years later, I am glad to call him a friend. Leaving his driveway, the gray skies were threatening. By the time I got home it was pouring down rain. Melissa asked me if the windows in the Scamp were open. Indeed they were. I ran, high stepping my way around the puddles on the walk, through the showers. In the Scamp, I stood for a few minutes to take in the sounds of the rain hitting the roof top. It was loud, but so relaxing. With the windows now closed, the Scamp will stay dry tonight. I ran back to the house, where we enjoyed a quite evening. Around six-o-clock this morning, Junes wet nose was telling me she needed to go outside. As she sniffed around the lawn, the rain started to come down again. I thought about last night, listening to the drops in the camper. This morning was totally different. The rain was falling onto the leaves of the trees making a soft rushing noise. A far more gentle sound than rain drumming a plastic roof, yet, equally comforting. I went inside, dried the dog with an old T-shirt of mine that was sitting on a chair. June looked at me as if to say, are you going to feed me? I was tired. I went back to bed and suggested she should do the same. About ninety minutes later, a paw on my hand was telling me she needed to go out again. I tried to brush her away. Youve already been out! I told her. The pawing continued. Leave me alone. I demanded. Despite my efforts to make her lay down, she kept at my hand with her paw. I got up to let her out again. When she came back inside, I dried her again with the old T-shirt. In the living room, June immediately came to me with her rope, dropping it at me feet, wanting me to toss it in the air for her. I gave her a look embossed with a glare of morning grumpiness that comes naturally to one who was awaken before they were done sleeping. Not now. I said. We went to the kitchen. I gave June her breakfast, then put on a pot of Caribou brand coffee. Its a rich, dark roast coffee that Melissa and I enjoy. The slogan on the side of the bag reads, Life is short. stay awake for it. How true. The rain started coming down again. I poured a cup of coffee, then, went out front to watch. I stood on the front steps in my pajamas with a cup of fresh brewed coffee in hand, and my trusty dog sitting on the stoop by my feet. The rain began to come down heavier reaching an outright downpour. Protected under the cover of the porch roofs overhang, we were kept dry. It was a different story for others. Two young girls were running east on the sidewalk across the street. They were laughing loudly as they held their coats over their heads, trying to keep their hair dry. They continued to laugh, bumping into each other, splashing water with every stomp of their feet all the way to the yellow school bus, waiting for them at the corner, with its caution lights flashing. About twenty feet away, the bus doors opened, the yellow lights turned to red. Over the sound if the rain, I could hear kids talking and laughter coming from inside the bus. The girls hopped through the door, right up the steps, never missing a beat, still laughing. I could imagine they were excited to tell their friends how it started raining while they walked to the bus. They had to run the rest of the way, still getting drenched. The doors closed. The sounds of the kids muffled. The lights stopped flashing, and the bus pulled away making that humming noise a bus will make as it shifts through the gears, driving off to take the kids to school. As the bus disappeared down the street, I silently wished the kids a good day at school. I thought about that first day I walked into OHS as a freshman, scared to death of that place, new to me. Within a couple of weeks, the fears were gone, I met new friends, most of my teachers were nice, and high school became fun. Still standing outside, I thought about the two girls, who seemed to be early high school age. I wondered if they have a teacher with whom they will be good friends 35 years from now. I hope they have a teacher like John Ohlinger. I took another sip of my coffee. Yes, Mr Roaster of Caribou Coffee, Life is short, and I do intend to stay awake for it. Come on, June. We have a lot to get done today.
Posted on: Tue, 09 Sep 2014 14:50:43 +0000
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