The temperature before sunrise on this Wednesday morning was 49 degrees, a level much higher than the below zero levels that flirted with below zero since the snow ice storms of last week. The thermometer shows 51 degrees Fahrenheit al little after 8 a.m. and the National Weather Service says the temperatures are expected to remain above 50 degrees today and all night into Thursday, when the high will be 59 and then into the 60s on Friday.
That, along with some rain, should take care of the remdining ice on our steep gravel driveway and will permit travel to and from town and errands and, with luck, coverage of the Floyd County High School varsity Buffaloes basketball team against Patrick County in the ‘Alan Cantrell Court here.
I don’t offer this information with any claim of being a weather forecaster or prognosticator but as a career newspaperman who tries to uncover facts and present them to the public. Sometimes, ones who read my reports on weahter respond with “how the hell do you know? What makes you a weather forecaster?”
“Nothing,” I respond. “I’m just a guy who tries to report on things that happen around us.”
I’ve spent more than 60 years as a newspaperman and photo journalist, but I now spend my final years on this earth as a retired one who contributes photos and articles to The Floyd Press and some news media outlets on the Internet. I move, gingerly, on legs hobbled by too many previously broken bones and a recent stroke that leaves my left side weakened as it struggles to recover.
I have no room to complain. Others far older than me do much, much more in their professions. I’m hobbled, but I’m not out…out least not yet. Legendary pitcher Satchel Paige once said “age is a case of mind over matter. If I don’t mind, it don’t matter.”
Sometimes, it does matter. It matters when I can’t do a simple task that once was second nature. Depending on how my recovery progresses over the next two or three months, we may have to find someone we can afford to mow out three acre lawn. It became a wilderness this area because I was unable, physically, to mow it, even with our riding mower.
“Yes, getting old is a bitch,” says a good friend,” but it is still better than the alternative.”
“Uh huh,” I respond. “We can hope.”
Maybe it’s time for a cup of coffee. .
“Coffee is a matter of survival,” someone once said, or maybe I saw it on a poster. “Dinosaurs didn’t have coffee and look what happened to them.”
Damn good point.