Let them call it mischief: When it is past and prospered t’will be virtue. —Ben Jonson
I mentioned last week that my youngest son was coming to visit. Despite multiple attempts, this was the first time any of my boys has been able to come here to see me rather than vice versa. We were incredibly excited. That week has flown by faster than any I can remember and now we’re taking him home. I’m sad that he can’t stay longer. Â Still, we’ve had a very good time. He still has a baby face, so no one expects the mischief of which he is capable. He measures it out carefully.
Sunday, we hiked around Eagle Creek, found a bridge over a quiet stream, and sat and talked while he dug holes in the creekbed with a large stick. He used to complain about long hikes with his brothers. He seemed to enjoy this one.
Monday, we hung out at the mall (because, you know, that’s where the Lego store is) then took some time to watch Batman v. Superman. The last movie we saw in the theater together? The Incredibles and I carried him on my shoulders. He reminded me of that experience more than once. Despite his frequent requests, we did not attempt to reenact that experience.
Tuesday, our mischief took us downtown, starting on Mass Ave. where we played with toys and found a roof-top perch I didn’t know existed. We wound through the maze of memorials and skyscrapers until he got hungry. We hit Tilted Kilt because, you know, he’s 17. Besides, Taps & Dolls doesn’t do lunch and Hooters couldn’t be more passé. More than the over-priced burger and obvious scenic attraction, what does my son remember most about the day? The moist towelettes. He took three. He said they made his skin soft. We finished the day playing chess at Indy Reads Books. Score one for the old man. I can still beat him.
Wednesday was the family trip to the zoo. This was prime silly time as he was dive-bombed by exotic birds, ignored by baboons, and stared at by a very menacing looking cheetah. Had they let him take home a flamingo, I’m sure he would have tried. What was most surprising, though, was that by this point in the week we had worn him out. He was in bed before 9:30 that night; Â the first time he’s been in bed that early in years.
Thursday, it rained. We stayed home. We talked a lot. We reminisced a lot. He asked questions about his grandparents, whom he barely remembers. We talked about life. We talked about girls. We talked about school, opportunities missed, and regrets.
Friday’s mischief took us to the Dallara Indycar Factory in Speedway. Since Kat had to be at the salon, we took the little ones with us. Those are the pictures below. The big hit of the day was the simulators. Based on how he performed there, I’m warning his mother to not let him drive for at least two more years. The world just isn’t ready. From there, we had froyo for lunch, then started the long walk home. Along the way, we passed several of the 2016 Indy 500 pace cars. Of course, he was smart enough to take a picture.
While his 18th birthday isn’t for a couple more weeks, we went ahead and celebrated a bit Friday evening. There were cupcakes. burgers, and mac & cheese. He fell asleep quite happy.
We’re going to miss him. There is still so very much to talk about. He still has a lot of questions that deserve answers. Perhaps, just maybe, we can make some arrangement for another trip this summer, though Kat’s schedule this summer is daunting. My baby boy is grown up in so many ways, but he still enjoys an afternoon of Phineas And Ferb and a bit of The Batman animated series before he falls asleep at night.
So, this round of mischief comes to an end. I’m hoping there will be more. I’ve missed time like this with all three boys. Who knows, maybe next time we can convince his eldest brother to join him. Although, I’m really not sure Indy is ready for that much Letbetter all at once. We’ll have to see. Enjoy the pictures.
The Art Of Being Chill
I don’t want to sound like a grumpy old man, but nothing winds me up more than people saying, ‘Chill out’ to me when I’m irritated! —Martin Freeman
Being chill comes easily for many people, but there are some who have turned it into an art form
Like many people my age, I have to deal with high blood pressure. Medically, there are a lot of reasons for having blood-pumping issues: our lifestyles being hectic, our diets being too high in sodium, and a general fear that we might die without having accomplished enough. There are plenty of things that would probably solve all but the worst of blood pressure problems without medication, but that would require we actually alter how we live rather dramatically. We’re not likely to do that, being the stubborn folk that we are, so the doctor gives us pills that try to force our blood pressure back down to a manageable level that won’t kill us quite so quickly.
The pills don’t always work, though. The doctor has increased the strength of my medication twice before and I’m still generating systolic and diastolic readings that are far too high to be safe. Kat keeps telling me I need to chill. She makes it sound so easy. She makes it look so easy. Just “chill.” She drinks coffee and relaxes. I drink coffee and feel the need to take a thousand new pictures. She sees something stupid in her news feed and ignores it. I see something stupid in my news feed and am ready to rip someone’s head off their shoulders. I am so very much not chill.
About a month ago, Forbes magazine published a story Finding Chill in ValparaÃso, Chile. The article contains beautiful photos full of the color and culture of this relatively small Chilean city. The author talks about his hotel with hammocks on the roof, the delicious yet inexpensive food, and stray dogs that will walk you home at night (not kidding). Everything in the article sounds so wonderful that I was almost ready to pack my bags and go, until the author discloses that, while there, he tripped on a seawall and broke his leg in two places. That’s a risk I can’t take. Scratch Chile off my travel list.
It seems obvious that I need to go somewhere to chill. Indianapolis is definitely not a chill type of city. We get uptight about almost everything around here. With the 100th running of the Indianapolis 500 this year, the entire neighborhood around us is anything but chill. But with ValparaÃso off the list, where should I go?
Back in 2010, Forbes also published a list of the most relaxed cities in America. The twin cities of Minneapolis-St. Paul topped the list. They won because they have short commute times, get plenty of exercise, and had good insurance. Note, this survey took place before the Affordable Care Act took affect so that last detail might have changed. Looking through the other cities on the list, Milwaukee, Portland, Seattle, Denver, San Jose, it seems to me that all those cities have experienced some significant change in the past six years. Political changes have ruined Wisconsin. Portland’s population of hipsters has exploded. Seattle has become one of the most expensive cities in the country. Denver won a Super Bowl. San Jose’s Silicon Valley has experienced a lot of employment upheaval while real estate prices soared. Not seeing a number of benefits there.
Music is supposed to help people chill, right? According to the British Academy of Sound Therapy, the song Weightless is the best choice to help people chill. In fact, the song is apparently so effective one some people that the scientists involved in the study recommend that one not drive while listening to the piece. The song, which was specifically composed for this study. starts at 60 beats per minute and gradually slows to 50. I tried listening. I made it about 30 seconds before wanting to shoot something. Weightless has no freaking melody! It’s just electronic noise with carefully constructed pulsing.
From what I can tell, if one is going to master the art of being chill, they need to successfully do the following:
Anyone who can successfully do those things can master the art of being chill.
I’m probably going to die.
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