Meet me in Dayton

I forgot just how much I despise commuting. I'm in the Ohio office and found a few packages waiting for me: the summer issue of Confrontation; an advance proof of Never-Ending Birds, by David Baker; and a copy of Robert Frost Speaking on Campus: Excerpts From His Talks, 1949-1962. Great stuff! (But still, that commute--ack!)

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So, I successfully drove up to Ohio from Georgia. Took me two hours just to get out of the ATL, because of rush hour traffic and thunderstorms (Note: Atlanta + rush hour + thunderstorms = idling). I'm not a big fan of driving in the rain, but the storms finally let up around Knoxville.

A few observations:

• Southbound I-75 through Lexington was cop crazy. More than four cars pulled over, and I counted another three cop cars patrolling. Need to watch myself through that area on Labor Day when I head back home.
• Times is tough. I know my trip from Duluth to Dayton is more than 500 miles long, but I noticed five cars that were driving on the Interstate with one of those rinky-dink spare tires. Either people can't afford to get new tires, or they're waiting until the tires pop to replace them.
• There's still nothing like seeing Cincinnati. I've always loved turning around the bend on northbound I-75 through Northern Kentucky to see the Cincinnati skyline. That, and crossing the Ohio River.

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I write while I drive. It's just something I do, and I'm lucky I haven't been in an accident as a result of such foolish risk-taking. But some of my favorite poems came while driving. I also write song lyrics. My earliest "poetry" was actually song lyrics, and if I had the patience to learn guitar, I'd probably travel the country as a singer-songwriter.

Here's a song I wrote for Tammy on the way up to Ohio (sung in a kind of folksy way):

"Anyway"

I don't wanna be the one you choose
just because you got the blues;
don't want to be the one that you take
just because your heart did break.

I wanna be the one you love
like a story book or heaven above
or some other dumb cliche--
what's so wrong with love anyway.
(O, anyway.)

Your hair's long, and I got none at all,
but I'm still waiting for you to call,
because there's something about your smile
that always makes my heart beat wild.

I wanna be the one you love
like a story book or heaven above
or some other dumb cliche--
what's so wrong with love anyway.
(O, anyway.)

*****

Picked up the boys on Friday evening. On Saturday morning, my brother David and my mom swung by, and all five of us went out for some youth soccer.

Ben's team was first. They won 1-0. Ben spent half the game on the bench. He played the whole first quarter. Then, he sat the second quarter as part of the normal rotation. He started the third quarter, but took himself out when he needed to use the restroom. And then, he started the fourth quarter, but took himself out after getting hit pretty hard by the soccer ball. He had fun, so that's all that matters, I guess.

Jonah's team played next. He's on a six-year-old juggernaut team. They won 9-1, and that score is even misleading for how much Jonah's team dominated the other squad. And the funny thing is that Jonah's team was smaller. Jonah didn't score, but he was up where the action was and had a few assists. I'd be surprised if Jonah doesn't get his share of points by the season's end.

Later in the day, we went over to Uncle David's and played video games. We also learned that my brother Simon (the stormchaser) was going to be driving through town very late at night and hanging out in Ohio on Sunday.

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So, Sunday morning we all met up Turtlecreek Reserve to play disc golf. David ended up winning--with Simon and me finishing tied in second. None of us have played much this year, so we were all very inconsistent (one great hole followed by one horrendous hole).

Then, I took the boys to get haircuts. (An unrelated aside: Ben and Jonah just recently started up 2nd grade and kindergarten respectively. Jonah likes riding home on the bus with Ben, and Ben's favorite part of 2nd grade is the library. He's really into reading those Goosebumps books.)

After the haircuts, we met up with Simon at my mom's and watched some of his Hurricane Bill-Nova Scotia footage. Cool stuff. We played a little baseball with the boys in the front yard until their mom came to collect them, and then, we talked politics and global warming with our stepdad. Good times.

Was up until 1 or so in the morning writing and reading Robert Bly's Leaping Poetry (University of Pittsburgh Press). Now, I'm here. Better get working. ;)