The calendar says for those of us in the Northeast and, at least theoretically, most of the rest of the nation, this winter of our discontent is drawing to a close. This weekend is the start of Daylight Savings and not much longer and the swallows return to Capistrano.
The Boys of Summer are already the rounding into shape as the Guys of the Grapefruit and Cactus Leagues, and not a moment too soon, so this next weekend of the third month in the eighteenth year of the twenty-first century should, I hope, be the start of better things.
Dylan offered that it takes a lot to laugh-it takes a train to cry. My mother, world-renowned mom of six of the most thick-headed and strong-willed children to ever walk the planet, demonstrated her smartness to us all when, without consulting the Internet (there was life before ether. Who knew?), told us it took more muscles to frown than it did to smile. We believed her because she was our Mom and it didn't hurt that she was also right, but how did she know?
So we can wish in one hand and spit in the other and see which one fills up faster (and yeah, Michael, I know where I swapped out one consonant for another and why). I always wear trousers with pockets so I have someplace to put all the fun.
We can promise to not miss what we do not have and enjoy our now in the now and look towards tomorrow with hope and not dread. "I'm carving 'em up through the dust in your town. Crawling over rubble just to sound me out. Tend to wonder why?"
-bill kenny
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