A couple of weeks ago, the Southerners here in Charlotte, NC, got a little taste of the Great White North. Well, they got about two inches of ice/snow/sleet and suchlike. Nothing really, as far as most Northern cities are concerned, but plenty enough to cancel most everything here on the border of the deep [...]]]> by Richard

A couple of weeks ago, the Southerners here in Charlotte, NC, got a little taste of the Great White North. Well, they got about two inches of ice/snow/sleet and suchlike. Nothing really, as far as most Northern cities are concerned, but plenty enough to cancel most everything here on the border of the deep South.

The snow came down Friday night and Saturday morning. By Saturday afternoon, the snow had melted and refrozen into a very slick sheet of ice covering just about everything. All of which made for some really fantastic sledding. The ice was so slick we could sled on most anything, from a wooden sled with metal blades to a plastic sled that only barely moves in pure snow.

Even better, the whole family was able to get out there and play in the snow and the cold and laugh our fool heads off while we roared down the street hill just outside our little cul de sac.

On Sunday, we were still able to get in a few hours of sledding in the morning before the bright, bright sun started to melt too much of the slick stuff. We were all set for school the next day when we were notified it was cancelled. Too worried about buses roaring through the pre-dawn night, hitting an ice patch and sliding into something hard and immovable. Reasonable enough. And the little dudes were thrilled to have a day off.

What they never think of, though, is that for every day off, they have to have a day that was off back on. That is, for the Monday off at the beginning of February, they had to pay the day off for President’s Day by going to school then. Enh. They really didn’t care all that much. But I have a feeling that, come Monday, they’re going to have a lot of care about this.

Still, it’s a good lesson: TANSTAAFL, as the master said. There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch. What you get, you have to pay for. Sort of elementary, but it’s something that has to be pounded in again and again or it doesn’t stick.

Me, I’ll gladly trade a day in the snow and the ice with my little dudes and their mom for a day off when they just sit around and do nothing. I know I’ll remember this snow day much longer than a regular day off. And, really, isn’t it all about me? Well, since you ask, yes. Yes it is.

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Now, it’s a well-known fact that little dudes don’t have well-developed frontal lobes and, thus, tend to make really bad decisions. However, I didn’t know the undeveloped frontal lobes of elementary school little dudes and dudettes were actively anti-survival. Until Friday, that is.

I do a lot of volunteer work at Speed Racer’s elementary school. [...]]]> by Richard

Now, it’s a well-known fact that little dudes don’t have well-developed frontal lobes and, thus, tend to make really bad decisions. However, I didn’t know the undeveloped frontal lobes of elementary school little dudes and dudettes were actively anti-survival. Until Friday, that is.

I do a lot of volunteer work at Speed Racer’s elementary school. And one of the things I do is chaperone the fifth-grade courtyard reward lunch. Basically that means I have to make sure little dudes and dudettes don’t destroy anything. See, if they go the entire week without getting disciplined by any teacher, they get rewarded by being allowed to eat lunch in an outdoor courtyard with picnic tables and suchlike. They’re able to talk as much as they want and move around and talk. So, yeah, they like to talk.

On normal days I and my fellow chaperones will usually get about forty or so kids out there enjoying their reward. And then came Friday.

As was the case in a lot of places around the good ol’ US of A, it was cold here in Charlotte. Very, very cold. I’m talking not over freezing for the entire day. And for here, dude, that’s extremely cold.

I was pretty sure the courtyard lunch would be cancelled because it was too cold. I showed up at the school anyway, figuring I’d better make sure I was right. When I got there, I was greeted by Speed Racer, four other little dudes and two little dudettes, one of whom was wearing only a shirt. I stared at her in amazement.

“If I get cold, I’ll just get my coat out of the classroom.”

IF? It was 26 degrees out there and she used if?

I asked the little dudes if they were all nuts. They just laughed. So I went along with it, leading the idiots kids out into the barren, frozen wasteland. I immediately headed toward the small sliver of weak sunlight making its way into the enclosed courtyard. I urged the little dudes and dudettes to do the same. Again, they laughed.

For about three minutes. Then the cold really hit. The one little dudette went for her coat and then came back and started eating her lunch.

Which contained an ice cream sandwich. On a day that it was below freezing.

And then came the kid wearing shorts and a hoodie. I just gave up, basically.

I pulled my parka’s hood more tightly over my head, huddled closer to the tiny bit of sunshine I could get and laughed quietly to myself. I just had to hope they’d survive long enough for their frontal lobes — or their ability feel cold and recognize what it means — could kick in.

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And now for something from the quel surprise file. My family’s dog, Buzz (who’s part labrador, part pit bull, part cow and part beaver) hates squirrels. No really. Well, it’s not that he hates them so much as he wants to get squirrels in his mouth, shake them until all their bones break and [...]]]> by Richard

And now for something from the quel surprise file. My family’s dog, Buzz (who’s part labrador, part pit bull, part cow and part beaver) hates squirrels. No really. Well, it’s not that he hates them so much as he wants to get squirrels in his mouth, shake them until all their bones break and then spend as long as possible tearing them apart. Rinse and repeat.

Yes, yes, yes. I know that describes just about every single dog in existence, but I’ve noticed something special about the way Buzz treats squirrels. And I think it gives us all something to think about. I think I used enough thinks in those last couple of sentences, yes?

Okay, here’s the deal. When Buzz first sees a squirrel, he runs at it as if d0g catchers were nipping at his heels. When he’s on a leash, that means the leash catches him up short and then causes him to flip over backwards in the air, land on his feet and then go after the squirrels again. He’s nothing if not determined.

Of course, when Buzz makes his move, the squirrel makes his as well. Like all good prey, the squirrel doesn’t stand and fight. It doesn’t make a defiant gesture. It just turns and runs. As quickly and drastically as possible. Most often up the nearest, tallest tree. Once the squirrel is at the top of the tree, he’ll run along branches and move from tree to tree. Again, not surprising.

What was surprising, I thought, was that Buzz wouldn’t give up when the squirrel disappears up the tree. He’ll stand quietly, his head cocked, listening for squirrel feet to scamper along a branch. Once he’s got that, he’ll locate the squirrel visually and then keep watching, slowly moving along the ground as the squirrel moves along in the trees. He’ll keep watching as long as the squirrel stays visible.

Our doggie dude doesn’t do this out of spite. Well, no more than normal for a dog who’s just lost his intended toy/lunch. He watches just in case. Just in case the squirrel suffers a stroke/heart attack/vertigo/whatever and falls to the ground. Buzz wants to be prepared. Who knows? The branch might break. Lightning might strike. The wind my howl enough to knock the squirrel off.

That’s what I love. Not that the dog is too stupid to know when to give up. That he knows that anything is possible. Anything can happen. He doesn’t let his goal disappear from sight without fighting for it. That’s something I think we should all remember as we go through life, closing our eyes and blinking away our vision of what’s possible.

Remember the dog.

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